Holding Out For A Hero
by Shadow Kyle
Summary: Dial H For Hero Universe with Titans crossover
1. Holding Out For A Hero 01

Holding Out For A Hero 01 - Prologue  
  
Author: Shadow Kyle  
  
Archive: Yes, ask first please. kyle.scott@mindspring.com  
  
Warnings: Adult topics and language, M/M slash themes, gender identity.  
  
Rating: R. The NC-17 version can be viewed at my website.  
  
Universe notes: I have taken liberties with the H-Dial for this story, but the DCU history of it remains true for the most part. The story begins in 2012. Tyler Lane is the adult son of Lucy Lane, Lois Kent's sister. Lucy Lane is a single mother in this universe. His father is Ron Troupe.  
  
Disclaimer: Tyler Lane and Persephone are mine. Jamie Lynn Spears is her own person. "Dance Of The Vampires" was a musical produced in 2002. All other characters belong to the DCU of DC Comics. I'm just taking them out for a test drive.  
=========================  
  
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ... *SMACK*!  
  
"...damn."  
  
My name is Tyler Lane. And I'm in a world of ouch. A lot of it. My eyes opened and the evil red light glared back at me. The pain was there again. Unable to keep them open, I closed my eyes and succumbed to the blissful cloud that had kept me enshrouded for the past few hours.  
  
How long had I been like this? How much longer could I hold out? What is that awful weight on my chest?  
  
I struggle to lift my eyelids again. Through my lashes I could make out two glowing eyes peering at me intently. Like I was a steak. With mashed potatoes on the side. The eyes were surrounded by a black mask that accentuated the desperation (and... annoyance?) that glowed from within.  
  
They never blinked once.  
  
Not. Once.  
  
The lids lowered just so and moved closer to my face. The pressure on my chest became more intense the closer the face got. I felt slight warmth, then a rough tongue flicked out between tiny sharp fangs.  
  
And it licked me.  
  
...ewww, cat breath!  
  
"Persephone! Phew, I think it's time to brush your teeth again."  
  
I cradled my Siamese in my arms as I sat up, nuzzling her forehead to mine. "OK, Perse. I'm getting up."  
  
I reached out and turned off the evil alarm clock and groggily took stock of the situation.  
  
It's Monday morning. 5:30am. Last night I had gone to my favorite bar in Chelsea for much longer than normal. That explains why I didn't want to wake up. I slept with my contact lenses in again. That accounts for the excruciating pain in my eyes. My cat wants food. Well, that's a given regardless of any situation.  
  
Slipping out of the sheets, my feet found the floor and I shuffled my way into the kitchen, Perse padding beside me. I opened a top-most cupboard and perused the many epicurean delights that would tantalize my cat's taste buds.  
  
"Which one this morning, hmmm?" Perse couldn't care less. I don't blame her. These contents of these tins all look the same and tend to smell as bad as they look. "Salmon Supreme it is!"  
  
I opened the can and unceremoniously emptied the contents into her dish. I retrieve her bottle of spring water from the counter and filled her water bowl. I can still hear my aunt Lois' disbelief that my cat drinks only bottled water. I make no apologies. The water from the tap tastes awful, like it's right out of the Hudson. If I won't drink it, I won't force my fuzzy-baby to drink it either.  
  
I set the coffee maker to begin my morning brew while I get myself ready for the shower. Stumbling into the bathroom and peering into the bathroom mirror, I squeezed the offending lenses out of my sore eyes. The world went blurry briefly before coming back into sharp focus when I put on my glasses.  
  
Hmmmm. Black hair with that one gray stripe at the left temple. Check. Green irises. Check. Stubble on face. Check. Small scar from rollerblade mishap below pouty lips. Check.  
  
Pouty lips? God, I could be so vain! But, yes, pouty lips nonetheless. Who am I to argue with nature?  
  
A quick shave later, I was immersed in a shower that ended much too soon for my taste. I dry off and make a mental note that the towels need to be washed. Then quickly to the closet and pick out clothes for the day.  
  
Hmmm. For today: tan slacks and a mock turtle neck. Add the t-shirt (no tag, who knew that Michael Jordan could be so persuasive a decade later) boxers, belt socks and sneakers and I'm all set. I dress quickly and check the clock. 6:10am. Still enough time to grab a bagel at Hot and Crusty's on the way to the subway. Wallet.  
  
Where's my wallet?!? It's not on the dresser like normal. Like a madman, I tear through the pockets from last night's clothes and come up empty handed. I'm gripped with the sudden fear that some bastard could possible be going on a shopping spree on the internet with my recently paid off charge card!  
  
I work my way through the bedroom and bathroom, looking into places that the wallet couldn't possibly be.  
  
What was it mom always said? "If you ever lose something, look under the passenger seat in the car. Eight out of ten, it will be there."  
  
Yeah, right, Mom. I don't own a car. No one of my means with any sense owns a car in New York City!  
  
"If not there, it's in the kitchen."  
  
I upturn cushions in the living room and when I'm just about to check under the chair I spot it on the counter in the kitchen.  
  
Relief! It washes over me as I pick it up and check to make sure everything is still there. Of course it is, but growing up in New York this becomes second nature when you are separated from your wallet for any length of time. New Yorkers are many things, but inherently trusting we aren't.  
  
I slip my wallet into my front pocket and that's when I see it: a gold timepiece was sitting on the counter next to where I found my wallet. I didn't own a watch. Call it vanity, but they tend to leave tan line marks on your wrist. I don't actively seek a tan, but I do prefer to have one skin tone. Where the hell did this come from?  
  
I picked it up and touched the face of the clock... and it faded from view leaving a dial with the letters H E R O.  
  
"What the..."  
  
The dial let off a faint glow, each letter pulsing with illumination.  
  
"... !?!"  
  
Where the hell did this come from?  
  
"Was it... ?"  
  
That little girl! She couldn't have been more than eleven, running out of the alley last night. She bumped into me and we both ended up in a pile on the sidewalk. Scrambling out from a tangle of limbs, she took off down the street and disappeared before I could say anything. Shortly after a blonde girl in a pink and white jumpsuit came flying around the corner as well. Not *flying* as in moving really fast. But *flying* as in "Look! Up in the sky!"  
  
"Lori!" she yelled, followed by some language that I couldn't decipher. It wasn't Spanish or French, that's for sure. I got that much from my high school language courses. She flew around the corner in hot pursuit of the girl.  
  
I heard the young girl's voice down the way, "FRAG OFF, IMRA! I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!!!"  
  
Another lesson learned as a New Yorker: stay out of the metahuman's way. Especially if you do not recognize them. We normal folk tend to become casualties with rampaging metas knocking each other about on the streets. Heeding that warning I ran down the steps into the subway and boarded the uptown 9. Thank god for the express at this late hour. I was blocks away before some super-powered badass decided to level the Village.  
  
That girl must have slipped this into my pocket. I moved to sit down and with a thump my ass met with the kitchen floor. Oh, that's gonna bruise.  
  
Perse stepped up into my lap and settled down there. I contemplated the watch again. The face was back, but when I touched it faded away revealing the dial. Maybe it was some sort of pager or something. I dialed the "H"....  
  
OK, another New Yorker lesson. We can sometimes be incredibly dense. Sure, we don't trust anyone and we get out the way of flying people. But, we're also the first ones to say "OOOOOOO! What does THIS button do?"  
  
Starting at the 12:00 position I dialed the H then worked my way around clockwise. And waited. No beeps, no buzzes. No little voice saying "hello?" Nothing. Except a blinding flash of light!  
  
"ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod Hail Mary full of gra..." What the hell am I doing!?! I'm not Catholic!  
  
The light was gone as quickly as it came and the watch face was back on the dial.  
  
"About time you figured that thing out."  
  
The voice came out of nowhere. I got up quickly, dumping Perse on the ground with a quick splat. Looking around the kitchen and living room, I saw that I was still alone. I tripped over my boot clad feet and stumbled out of the kitchen.  
  
What a minute. I put on my sneakers this morning. I looked down and saw my own reflection in the glossy shine of the black leather boots. But, the reflection didn't quite ring true.  
  
I ran to the bathroom mirror and just about passed out. It was me but it wasn't me. Ok, it would have been me if I were going out for Halloween. Long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. A tight white shirt covered by a black vest. Tight black leather pants. And a black scarf covering my nose and the lower half of my face. I slowly pulled down the scarf to reveal a full set of pouty lips. Thank god they were still there!  
  
"Ah, vanity. Thy name is Tyler."  
  
There's that voice again. Female. Deep and almost purring. I snuck my head into the hallway and there was Perse looking up at me.  
  
"...Persephone?"  
  
"Who else would it be, love?"  
  
Then the world went black.  
  
===========================================  
  
"Pull back. Pull back. Pull back the darkness:" The voice kept resonating. "Pull back...ahhh, that's my love."  
  
The darkfield that had instinctively appeared slowly drew itself within me.  
  
I opened my eyes and there was my cat, Persephone, nuzzling me.  
  
"...Perse?"  
  
"It's all right, love. Just relax." she said. A low, deep vibration found me. It worked its way down from my hair, head, shoulders, arms, fingers, back, chest, stomach, ass, cock, balls, thighs, calves, soles, ankles, soles, and toes. The leather was suddenly unbearably tight. Too tight. And wet. I felt the wet against the leather.  
  
"Relax, love. Just feel it."  
  
The utter eroticism consumed me. I felt fire, snow, wind, rain, sand, sea, air, vacuum, indifference, enrapture, jealousy, love, rage, passion. All that mattered was feeling the warmth and throbbing. My arms and legs were so heavy. I couldn't concentrate.  
  
"Oh, god... oh, god.... OH GOD!!!!"  
  
A low purr filled my ears, coaxing me back from the upper stratosphere. "Love, come back to me now."  
  
I opened my eyes and my cat was sitting upon my chest. My eyes were wide and racing.  
  
"... I don't understand," I said.  
  
"Love, it was destined. You shall be the hope," the voice rang in my head.  
  
"...hope?" I asked.  
  
"Yes, love. Our hope."  
  
=================================================  
  
I called in sick today. After five years with the Weisman Theatricals, I've never once taken a sick day. Understandably, Rivka was worried.  
  
"What's wrong? You sound different."  
  
"It's just the flu, Rivka. My voice is very sore right now. I don't know how long this will be. Will Sheri or someone else be able to cover for me for a day or so?"  
  
"Of course! Take care of yourself. And see a doctor. You never know where these things can end up. We don't need you getting pneumonia with the 'Vampires' revival coming."  
  
'Dance of the Vampires'. Oy! It was such a colossal flop when it debuted in 2002. Who would have thought that the biggest flop in Broadway history would be a major revival ten years later. Even 'Carrie' never had that distinction, regardless of how often it was rumored for a Lost Musicals production at Carnegie Hall.  
  
"I will. I'll give you a call tonight to let you know how I'm doing."  
  
"OK. Take care of yourself and drink lots of water! That's very important!"  
  
"Yes, mother!"  
  
"Don't sass me, missy! I know where you live!"  
  
I hated lying to Rivka. She was one of the most honest people in show business. No games. No politics. Just doing a job which she loved to no end. Come to think of it, what was she doing in show business? She should be a nun or something. Do they have Jewish nuns? Sister Mary Rivka Stromberg. Hmmmm. No. It just didn't sound right. Plus, I can't see her not visiting Macy's on a regular basis. If it weren't for her, I'd be just another queer without any fashion sense. Yes, oddly enough, many of us are born without the Versache gene.  
  
=================================================  
  
I sat on my sofa while my cat paced back and forth across the table. Too weird. Mainly because I never would have allowed her on that table before. Before that watch began to change my life.  
  
"There is so much you have to learn. And you are so different from the others."  
  
"What are you talking about?!?" I said. "What the hell is going on? And what happened this morning? I'm not used to autoeroticism before I go to work! And why the hell are you talking to me anyway?!? Cats aren't supposed to chat! They eat, drink, shit in their litter box and sleep cuddled up at the foot of the bed! And what is up with the darkness and me being blonde and wearing these clothes?!?"  
  
"Love..."  
  
"What?!?"  
  
"*Shush!*"  
  
The blast hit me with such intensity that everything went white for a moment.  
  
"There is much you have to learn. Much I must tell you. Think. What is your name?"  
  
"...Tyler," I answered.  
  
"Yes, but think again. What is your name?"  
  
I thought. My pet is playing with my head. This whole thing is some sort of hallucination. I must have hit my head earlier in the kitchen. My name is...  
  
"Vesper," I whisper. "My name is Vesper."  
  
"Yes, Vesper. And what can you do?"  
  
My mind reached. "The dark. I can make the darkness occur."  
  
"Yes, love."  
  
"And I can fly. And pass through things like a ghost."  
  
The clarity of what I could do suddenly do sobered me. "Perse, what is going on?"  
  
"You are the latest in the possession of the "H" dial. A mystical device that can transform the merest of man into a superhero."  
  
"Why can you talk to me now?"  
  
"I talked to you before. You couldn't understand me, though."  
  
"Ooookay. ...so what about the... you know?"  
  
"Tyler, I..." The voice hesitated for a brief moment. Tension suddenly filled the room as my cat squared her shoulders. "... I have ...loved you for many months now. I knew you would be the one to save me. I always knew. But shortly after you rescued me I came to realize that what I felt for you was... love."  
  
=================================================  
  
I thought back to when I first saw Persephone. I had visited the animal shelter with Rivka a few months ago. She was intent on finding a terrier. I don't care for dogs myself. They're too needy. I had no intention of finding a pet that would become my end-all be-all in life. I cold hardly commit to a boyfriend, much less something with fur and fangs.  
  
While Rivka was browsing the dog pens, I was in the room with the cats. The cages lined the walls on the small room. I looked at a set of kittens that couldn't have been more that four weeks old. The attendant told me that they were being bottle fed since they were so young. Next to them was this adult Siamese. The attendant said that this cat had been found in an alley and this was her last week before she was put down.  
  
Put down. I looked at the big blue eyes in the back of the cage. The cat stood and walked to the front of her confinement. She reached her dark paw between the wires and said, "Mreow."  
  
Oh, she had me at "Mreow."  
  
Rivka went home empty handed, while I had a new friend firmly in tow in a new pet carrier.  
  
"Rivka, remind me again why we went to the animal shelter."  
  
"Silly! We went to find me something from the Jack Russell collection."  
  
"Then why am I bringing a cat home with me?"  
  
"Because you finally heard the calling of the pussy?"  
  
We laughed big and loud over that one!  
  
=================================================  
  
"You are not the first to possess of the dials. Before you there have been others, most notably teenagers. But while they did the piece justice, they were not the saviors. "  
  
"Saviors? What do you me..."  
  
"Not now, love," she responded. I flinched.  
  
Love. Not only was I not ready for a relationship. My cat was now in love with me. And she was a she!  
  
"The first three to have the dials were quite young. They did not possess the prowess or heart to command such a powerful responsibility. Though the first became quite formidable in its use. He became the Wizard, and it was to him that I was bound. There is a forth man, much like yourself, who now has another dial. He continues to this day to use its magicks."  
  
"What about that little girl, Lori?"  
  
"Ah. She is quite the enigma. There is much to be writ of her future. For even though she was born before you, her past will be written long after you are gone. And she is destined for greatness. But, you must always remember that with destiny come great changes. No matter how powerful you may become, things will rarely turn out the way you expect them."  
  
"You're pretty wise for a cat."  
  
"I haven't always been a cat."  
  
And then it hit me. Perse lowered her head and her eyes bore straight into my mind. Her memories all at once. Darkness. Light. Sand. Celebrations. War. Pyramids. Wrappings. Tombs. Darkness. Light. Rebirth. Home. Love. War. Peace. Castles. Slavery. Royalty. Death. Rebirth. Swords. Duels. Arrows. Knights. Maidens. Battles. Death. Rebirth. Light. Dark. New. Old. Ships. Walking. Running. Thieving. Stalking. Hunting. Loving. Despising. Over and over. She had been so many things. From an Egyptian prince, to a rabbit gracing the lawns of the Norwegian palace, to a horse consumed by the fires of Mount Vesuvius, to a Nubian handmaiden bound for the new world as a slave, to a model for wearing a dress made out of popcorn balls walking down a fashion show runway, to a familiar to a wizard. How torturing it must be to find you can never have rest. Never have peace from your lives. Destined to live again, and again, and again.  
  
Tears were flowing down my cheeks. I was not crying great heaving sobs, but yet the tears flowed freely from my eyes. This creature that I had called my pet had lived more, loved more, suffered more, laughed more than any of us would even know. And now she was here. Yet again fulfilling her own eternal destiny as she must until she is finally put to rest. She seemed so tired.  
  
That is so odd, considering that she seemed to sleep most of the day.  
  
"I don't sleep most of the day. When you aren't here I watch a lot of CNN and Lifetime."  
  
I laughed wholeheartedly. At least my "pet" was up on current events and 'Cybil'.  
  
=================================================  
  
"Uh... Perse, are you sure about this?"  
  
We are standing on the small balcony and I'm looking twenty-two stories down into an alleyway covered in very hard pavement. I can cast darkness and become immaterial, but those two things I can do without jumping to my death.  
  
"Vesper, trust me on this. Trust yourself with the powers. You've already blacked out your entire apartment and walked through every wall in the place. This is the final step."  
  
*Yeah, but the stepping doesn't so much scare me as the splat potential.*  
  
"Listen to what you know," she said.  
  
*Great. Now my cat has gone all "Kung Fu" on me.*  
  
"I heard that. Don't make me kick your ass, little grasshopper! Now jump off the damned balcony and FLY!" I felt a push on my back and tumbled over the railing. I closed my eyes and waited for the pavement to make me into Tyler-flavored pudding.  
  
"Vesper, open your eyes."  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh, Ra!" she exclaimed. "None of the others were this difficult. Even those two kids in high school had a bigger grasp on how to use their powers. Granted, the girl went insane... But no one ever doubted the powers. They just *did* what they knew they could!"  
  
My eyes slowly opened. "The girl went insane? When were you going to tell me this? Is that what I have to look forward to?"  
  
"Vesper?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're flying."  
  
She was right. I looked down and saw that the pavement was still where it had been earlier. I looked back up into Perse's blue eyes. And grinned the biggest, goofiest, goddamn grin that my lips could muster.  
  
"Go."  
  
I took off straight up into the air above my building. Oh, this was so freakin' COOL! Ok, you're a gay man, not too bad looking, dressed up like rough trade, full pouty lips and you just discovered that you can fly. What are you going to do?  
  
I'm going to Broadway!  
  
I pulled the mask up and took off downtown, headed for Times Square. The skyline raced towards me. I felt a slight panic thinking I might not be able to stop. How do I do that? It's not like there are any brakes. What was that Bugs Bunny gag? Air brakes. Heh. I snickered to myself at the silly joke and looked up just in time to see the billboard rushing towards my face.  
  
"Oh, shi...." I phased right through and came to a stop just on the other side. "Whoa." Well, now I know that I can use more than one power at a time. Good thing, too. Just then I heard the scream from below.  
  
I looked down onto the street. One: a old woman screaming. Two: a guy running away with what looked to be something of the Prada collection grasped in his grubby paws. One plus one equals me getting to wail on some punk's ass. Here's hoping that instincts will take over.  
  
I swallowed hard and pushed myself off the building. Damn this kid is fast. He got about two blocks away before I could get my fingers around his collar. I yanked him back hard onto his ass then landed right in front of him. Oh, he was not happy to see me.  
  
"Shit, man. Get out of my way, bitch!" He pulled a knife from his pocket and scrambled to his feet.  
  
OK, time this just right. The darkness shot out from my fingertips and surrounded his head. He lunged wildly with the blade. I phased and he slashed right through me. His momentum took him around to my left. Solidifying, I placed a swift kick right into his gut, knocking the air from him. He doubled over as I spun another kick right at his hand. The knife was gone now. I pulled the darkfield back into myself and looked him right into his eyes.  
  
"What the fuck are you?" he wheezed.  
  
"Call me Vesper. Good night." My fist pulled back and I snapped one off right between his eyes. Ouch. Blood rushed out from his nose. Oops. I had meant to just knock him out, not break his face. He slumped onto the pavement. Damn, that felt good. Yea, me!  
  
Then I heard the applause. I looked around to see that quite a large crowd had circled us. Oh, geez. How long had they been there? I picked up the thug by his jacket in one hand and the purse and knife in the other. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen! I'm here all week. Please remember to tip your waiters and waitresses!"  
  
I willed myself into the air. Damn, this guy is heavy. It was taking a whole lot of my energy just to head back the couple of blocks where the lady was still standing with a couple of New York's finest.  
  
"I believe this belongs to you." I dropped the guy and knife into a heap at the officer's feet and handed the purse back to the woman. She opened her mouth several times but nothing came out. Then she opened the bag to check its contents. New Yorker rule number one: don't trust.  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
I launched myself back into the air, much to the protests of the cops. As I flew away they were still shouting something about taking a statement.  
  
I wanted to go home, but after flying around a bit, I realized that I didn't recognize anything from up here. How does Superman do this? I landed in an alley. Pulling down the mask, I stepped out into the street. No sense in drawing too much attention to myself, I think. Though this outfit does look like I was just now coming home from an after hours club. I found the street sign and discovered I was just a block away from the apartment. I walked the last bit and was just about to go into the front door when I realized there is no way the doorman is going to let me in. I didn't look like me at the moment and I don't think I can pass myself off as my own brother.  
  
I scooted into the alley and flew up to my balcony. Persephone was waiting for me there.  
  
"You've got blood on your shirt."  
  
She was right. That punk's blood had splattered across my chest and was covering my hand. No, the blood on my hand was my own. I had split my knuckles open when I hit him. Oh, man. That really started to hurt now that the adrenalin was winding down.  
  
I went into the kitchen and ran water over my hand, washing the stickiness away.  
  
"So I take it everything went well?"  
  
My mouth went into overdrive as I replayed the events of the morning to her. She nodded her head.  
  
"So now you understand about the instinct. Continue to trust it."  
  
"Perse? Uh... How long will I stay like this?"  
  
"Until you dial yourself out of it."  
  
The dial! I had forgotten all about it. Where was it?  
  
"Open your hand and think about it."  
  
I brought my hand up and concentrated. The dial shimmered into existence in my palm.  
  
"Now, dial O R E H."  
  
I did and there was that flash of light again. When I could see, I was back to being me again. My clothes from this morning were back. The pain in my hand was gone and the knuckles were healed. The dial had disappeared again. I concentrated and it reappeared. Then willed it away and it was gone.  
  
"Tyler, sit down. We need to talk about your new situation."  
  
=================================================  
  
End of Prologue 


	2. Holding Out For A Hero 02

Holding Out For A Hero - Chapter 01  
  
Author: Shadow Kyle  
  
Archive: Yes, ask first please. kyle.scott@mindspring.com  
  
Warnings: Adult topics and language, M/M slash themes, gender identity.  
  
Rating: R. The NC-17 version can be viewed at my website.  
  
Universe notes: I have taken liberties with the H-Dial for this story, but the DCU history of it remains true for the most part. The story begins in 2012. Tyler Lane is the adult son of Lucy Lane, Lois Kent's sister. Lucy Lane is a single mother in this universe. His father is Ron Troupe.  
  
Disclaimer: Tyler Lane and Persephone are mine. Jamie Lynn Spears is her own person. "Dance Of The Vampires" was a musical produced in 2002. All other characters belong to the DCU of DC Comics. I'm just taking them out for a test drive.  
  
=========================  
  
I'm running on empty these days. Between balancing a full time job and training at nights as a full time superhero, I get no sleep at all. Rivka has been very pushy about the dark rings under my eyes. I brush it off that I've just not been sleeping well these past few weeks. That the stress of getting this new show mounted is taking its toll.  
  
I have no social life. Ok, not that I had much of one before. But still, I would like to have the chance to go out at least once and not worry about trying to "save the day", either at my job or when I'm whatever hero is dialed that night. I'm getting so punchy that I almost dialed myself up when the printer next to my workstation started to smoke. Oh, that would have gone over really well! DUM Da DUMMM! Here comes Hardware Servitron to fight injustice in the world of evil office equipment!  
  
That wouldn't be the weirdest thing that I've been recently. Since first dialing myself into Vesper, among other things I've been a human incarnation of a lesser Norse god, a really fat man that can absorb electricity and release it again through my punches, a woman that can age things until they turn to dust, and a pixie. Perse is still ragging me with fairy jokes over that one!  
  
I've rescued a family from a burning building. I single handedly halted a hostage situation at a bank (as "the Negotiator" no less). There was those kids that just about drowned during a midnight swim in Central Park. But mainly, I've been dealing with street crime, muggings and snatch-and-grab type things. In nearly every instance, I've dialed into someone that is just right for the situation.  
  
Perse doesn't understand why I tend to retain my own personality for nearly every hero. It was a little disconcerting being a Norse demigod with a rather obvious New York flavored accent. She says that eventually, I won't need the dial. The magic will just become part of me and I will be able to change at will. Also, that once I store enough of the energy, I'll be able to repeat the appearance of the heroes. But for right now, I'd settle just to be Sleeping Man, master of the forty winks.  
  
I've been avoiding the police at all costs. It just won't do to fill out reports or give them my name when I'll be gone soon after I dial myself back to normal. I can't give them my real name for fear of some retaliation against me that would endanger my home or office. I still don't know how other heroes can possibly have real lives outside of this. Then again, they probably don't have to deal with the nine-to-five drudge like I do.  
  
The press is having a field day with me. It seems that every other day, there are reports of all these new costumed vigilantes in the upper west side. I've even managed to push the Titans off the front page a couple of times, now reduced to "Titans save UN from Giant Water Beast: See page 2A". The mayor and police chief have denounced me. Apparently, I don't play nice with the city officials like they want. They'll just have to wait. I'm no where near ready to make a public announcement that the Big Apple has a new hero in town. Plus, I've noticed that the minute you do, some supervillian shows up at the same time to take a piece of out of your ass. And you never win that first big fight. I'll stick to my playground for now and just deal with the everyday mundane crimes and emergencies. No Earth-shattering crisis for me right now, thank you.  
  
"Tyler, here's the schedule for the new photographs to be taken of the "Vampire" cast. Hopefully, they can get that done in one session and you can enjoy this lovely Friday evening resting," Rivka shot her best mother hen eyeball at me and tossed the packet onto my desk without missing a step. We had already taken these pictures once, but after the leading lady was dismissed and then replaced by Jamie Lynn Spears we have to reshoot the majority of the them. She is in nearly every scene of the show. While Rivka got to work out negotiations with Actor's Equity and Spears' agent, I got the cushy task of dealing with miss diva and her managers. Plus a new photographer that I have never worked with before. Someone named...  
=================================================  
"...Donna Troy?" I held out my hand to greet our new photographer. "I'm Tyler Lane."  
  
"Pleased to meet you," she replied and took my hand. I swear this woman had the bluest eyes I had ever seen. If I was into women, I'd have been reduced to a gibberish spouting moron. She held my hand for just a little longer than necessary, as if she were sizing me up. She cocked her head just a little to the right and raised one brow. What's that about? I held open the stage door for her and we greeted the security guard the desk. I picked up her equipment and was shocked at how heavy it was. She didn't have an assistant with her having arrived alone. How the heck did she get this downtown by herself?  
  
I got Hal, the stage manager, setting the lights and scene sequence with the booth gal and stage hands while Donna went about her business checking light levels and prepping her equipment. In about thirty minutes, the cast would be on stage in costumes and makeup getting ready to walk their way through the show for Donna's camera. I checked the sign-in sheet by the stage door and noticed La Spears had not yet checked in. Where the hell was she? This entire thing was set up for her and now she's going to put us all behind schedule. *Fucking great. If she turns out to be like her sister...*  
  
I pulled her manager's number from my Blackberry and dialed it from the phone at the stage manager's desk. No answer.  
  
I pulled out my cell phone, plugged the headpiece into my ear and speed- dialed the office. "Rivka?"  
  
She answered with unusual bitchiness. "What?!?" Whoa, where the hell did that come from? Equity must be putting a real twist in her panties. I decided to ignore it. She can't possibly be sweet and perky all the time.  
  
"Spears hasn't arrived yet. Have you heard anything?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Ok, I'll try her hotel. Bye."  
  
According to the hotel, the limo had picked them up over an hour ago. Spears, manager and bodyguards all left at the same time.  
  
Bodyguards? As in plural? Jamie only had one bodyguard. Mark something or the other. And what limo? The hotel is a block and a half away. While the producers like to pamper their stars, there is no way they would send a limo to drive someone that distance. Plus I would have coordinated it! Something is not right here.  
  
I raced to the front of the house looking for Hal, nearly knocking over Donna in the process. "HAL! Where are you!" I found him in the lobby listening to the radio.  
  
"...just received confirmation that singer/actress Jamie Lynn Spears has been abducted..."  
  
Donna appeared at my shoulder. "Tyler, what's going on?" Hal and I shushed her.  
  
"...few details at the moment. However, police did receive a call from someone they believe to be the kidnapper saying that Miss Spears was for the moment unharmed. Spears' longtime manager, Deborah Wright, and her bodyguard, Mark Bradley, were both found shot in a limousine parked outside of Grand Central Station. Their condition at this time is unknown. We'll keep you posted on this situation as more information becomes available. In local weathe..." *click* Hal turned the radio off.  
  
"Donna, I'm sorry. We'll reschedule. Hal, take care of things here. I'll give you a call." I ran out of the lobby into the street. *Gotta change gotta change gotta change* I couldn't find anyplace that I wouldn't be noticed! Forget it! I ran down the street willing the dial into my palm. H E R O and *please* be something that can fly!  
  
DAMN! I've turned into the Indian from the Village People! Come on and focus, Tyler!  
  
*Path. My name is Path. I'm a tracker and I can teleport.* Okay, that more than makes up for the lack of flying this time.  
  
"Hey, Tonto! Nice loincloth! Where's the pow-wow?"  
  
*Sigh* I hate this city sometimes.  
  
I summon up my new native American courage and say, " "  
  
" "?  
  
*Oh, fucking hell! I'm mute!*  
  
This is not my day.  
  
=================================================  
  
The portal opens before me and I step through into the hotel suite that I had reserved for Spears. With a wave of my hand I close the path behind me. I stand in the middle of the room and reach out with my senses, smelling and tasting the air. I detected three familiar scents: Jamie, Deborah and Mark. Soap... oatmeal?, cologne, gel, shampoo, conditioner... I know that, I think. I use the same brand. Four more I don't recognize, three men. One of them doesn't bathe too regularly. No, more than that. I concentrate harder on the scent. It smells of garbage and waste. I can taste stagnant water and... chemicals? A sewer maybe? And a woman. Ugh, and she's on her monthly cycle. I reach out even further, but that's all I can find here.  
  
I turn to make my portal to Grand Central station and catch myself in the mirror. Whoa. The asshole on the street was right. I'm wearing a loincloth and soft leather boots. Nice pecs and arms. There are leather straps around my biceps and left thigh. And... I lift the loincloth. No underwear at all. One good breeze and all of Manhattan will be up in my business. Apparently the dial has a twisted sense of humor.  
  
"Nice outfit. Where's the rest of it?" The voice came from by the window. I turned quickly, ready to teleport myself away and found myself looking at Donna wearing a black bodysuit that glittered like the stars themselves. What the...? Oh hell, Donna was Troia! Before I could move she had hold of my wrists.  
  
"Who are you and what are you doing here?!?"  
  
I couldn't answer. I REALLY wanted to, but I couldn't.  
  
She firmed up her jaw and turned one blue eye to me, that eyebrow arched just so again...  
  
*gasp* "...Tyler?"  
  
How the hell did she figure that out?!?  
  
I slowly nodded my head and she loosened her grasp of my wrists. My arms lowered to my side and she kept a fighting stance ready.  
  
I held up my hands again and crossed to the desk by the window, her body countering mine all the while. I picked up the pad and pen and wrote.  
  
//Yes. I cannot speak in this form.//  
  
I held the pad out and she read.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
//Long story. Later. Have lead where they might have Spears.//  
  
"Where?"  
  
//Sewers. I don't know where yet.//  
  
She reached out to touch me again. "Do you mind? Nothing personal." I shook my head.  
  
She touched my wrist and thought for a minute. "All right, Tyler. Where do we go?"  
  
//Grand Central. Pls call me Path.//  
  
I set the pad and pen down and gestured open the portal into an alley near the station. I beckoned her to follow.  
  
"Uh, Path?"  
  
I turned to face her.  
  
"Maybe we should get you something a little less revealing to wear. I mean, I like it, but it's a little conspicuous."  
  
I went to the coat closet and found one of Mark's trench coats. I looked a little like a flasher, but it'd do for the meantime. Pocketing the pad and pen, I took her hand and we stepped through my path.  
  
We stepped out onto the street and I reached out again. Too many smells here. The hot dog and souvlaki carts were playing havoc on my senses. I turned to Troia and shook my head. She pointed over to were police tape had cordoned off the crime scene. I nodded and we headed in that direction, me reaching out for a scent of anything that would set on the trail. I had just determined that New Yorkers have some of the worst B.O. in the world when I caught it. Oatmeal soap and conditioner. It was very faint, but I had found it. I opened my mouth and tasted the scent, finding it's direction. Troia followed me down Park Avenue and round a corner, picking up speed as it got stronger. Other trails were begging me to follow them, but I kept on. Down another side street. Troia kept right with me. I stopped once or twice, loosing the scent when the wind changed. I spun and reached out and led us right to a manhole.  
  
Ugh. We do have to go into the sewers. I move to lift the cover, but Troia beats me to the punch. She picks it up and tosses it aside like it was a paper plate.  
  
"Sorry, I was feeling a little useless," she grinned sheepishly. "Down here, I take it?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Look, you wouldn't happen to know sign language? It would make communicating down there much easier."  
  
I thought to myself, does this form come with ASL skills? I concentrated and...  
  
Nope. I shook my head. We're flying by the seat of our pants here.  
  
Speaking of flying, once we got down the ladder into the muck, Troia reached around my waist and we floated above the water.  
  
"No sense in broadcasting our position to them by splashing through the water. When we find them, you get Jamie out of there. As far away as possible. Leave the others to me. "  
  
I gave the "thumbs up" sign. Reaching out I found the trail again. Despite being really nasty down here, it was so much easier to find the scent of something clean and focus on it. Dim work lights lined the walls, guiding my path. We slowly began floating through the sewers. We had to stop a couple of times when I lost the trail, but I picked it up again eventually. I urged Troia on faster as the scent became stronger. I had no idea where in the city we were anymore. We must have traveled about a mile out from where we started, then the path changed direction. I realized then that the bastards had doubled back. They were still under Grand Central!  
  
Troia's speed increased as the path became stronger. I felt my stomach lurch as we rightly flew past the grime covered walls. Oh, now was not the time to be sick. I think I've make a good impression. She's trusted me so far. I don't want to ruin it by being air sick!  
  
That's it! The oatmeal and conditioner scent was nearly overwhelming now. I motioned to slow down. They were right around the bend in the path. I realized then that I needed to see the layout before I could port to it. I hadn't considered that before. I had already been in or around the other places I ported into, so I knew where I was going. I pulled out the pad and pen.  
  
//Need to see area to port.//  
  
Troia nodded and set me down on the path next to the river of sludge. Thank the wind for the moccasin boots! I could move without tipping our hand. Slowly, I snuck around the bend and quickly took stock of the layout then moved back to Troia. I wrote out:  
  
//2 guys. 1 gal. Guys have guns. Thought there a 3rd guy. Don't see him. Spears tied in corner. I got her.//  
  
She nodded and set that jaw firmly into place. That is one brave lady. She is ready to take on all of them alone while I do a simple snatch and grab. Simple, hell. If I screw this up, she could die. All that matters right now is getting the girl out of harm's way before those bullets start flying. Surprise is the one advantage we have on our side right now. I gestured a small portal into the air next to Jamie and peeked through, verifying her location. I took a deep breath and...  
  
It's funny how things that happen so quickly can seem to move in slow motion. I fully opened the portal, reached out and grabbed Jamie by her arm and pulled her to me through the path. Troia flew right out into the open around the corner and took out the first guy. Her fist contacted with his head and I heard the sickening crack echo off the walls. The first shot went off and I heard it deflect off her bracelet. I opened my next portal from the sewer to outside the police station in Times Square. Another shot and another deflection. The woman was thrown past us and up against the wall. Two down. I hoisted Jamie to her feet and pushed her through the path to the station house. She fell through to knees and rolled out on the sidewalk. I heard someone on the other side scream as the poor girl landed at their feet. I caught their eyes briefly and saw them pointing at me. No, something behind me. Oh, no. I wiped the portal closed and turned around. There was the guy number three. I heard Troia finish off the last one around the corner. The man before me pulled back the trigger. I felt searing heat as the bullet tore through my shoulder. What's that smell? Gunpowder? And.... blood? Oh, god it's my blood! All the way through. Oh, man that really really hurts. No, not so much anymore. I can't feel my arm at all. As I fell over into the slimy water, Troia flew above me and into the guy's face. Oh, god this water tastes awful. I can't feel my arm and the water is burning my shoulder. I open my mouth to scream and no sound comes out. I could hear it ringing in my head, but not a single sound escaped my mouth. I looked up and Troia was over me. She looked fuzzy now. So fuzzy. So fu...  
=================================================  
  
My name is Tyler Lane. No it's Path. And I'm in a world of numb. A lot of it. My eyes opened and the evil white light glared back at me. Unable to keep them open, I closed my eyes and succumbed to the blissful cloud that had kept me enshrouded for the past few hours. Or days. I didn't know.  
  
I felt something on the bed shift and opened my eyes again. I saw an angel. All tousled brown hair and brown eyes. Precious nose and full lips. Slight stubble on tan skin. Oh, please let this be heaven!  
  
I opened my mouth to speak. No sound. I'm still Path. I wonder if I'm still wearing the loincloth.  
  
"Lian, he's awake!"  
  
The angel moved away. *No. Come back.*  
  
I tried to move and found that I couldn't. I felt so numb. And sick all of a sudden. Very, very sick. Oh, no not here not now...  
  
I tried to lurch up. Strong hands helped me move over to the side and I emptied the contents of my stomach into a waste basket liner. I couldn't stop. I just kept heaving until tears were streaming down my cheeks. I choked back the sobs that only I could hear.  
  
He sponged off my face. "Shhh," he soothed. "It's ok, now. It's ok. Sometime the anesthesia can have that affect. You'll be all right."  
  
He supported me gently and lowered me back to the bed. I stared up into his beautiful eyes, blinking the tears away. I went to wipe them away, but I couldn't move my arm. I couldn't feel it all. I felt the panic rising. Oh, god let it still be there. I stole a look to my right arm. It was still there, but my shoulder was heavily bandaged. I couldn't feel it! I CAN"T FEEL MY ARM!  
  
"Lian! I need you in here NOW!" He shouted.  
  
I heard a door burst open and a young lady ran into the room. I looked up wildly and watched as she took a needle and inserted it into the bag hanging above my bed. I followed the tubes down from the bag and saw them inserted under a bandage at my wrist. Oh, it's an I.V. I'm not dead. Just very tired.  
  
=================================================  
  
I opened my eyes. Donna was there. No, Troia. No, she's in jeans and a t- shirt. Donna, I decided.  
  
"Hi there. Welcome back, hero." She smiled down at me.  
  
*Hero?*  
  
She pressed an intercom button, "Lian? He's awake now." She looked back to me and smiled. "You're going to be just fine."  
  
I think I managed a grimace. If I could just get the cobwebs out of my head. I looked around the room. A hospital. Definitely a hospital, I think.  
  
I try to sit up, but Donna stops me with a hand to my chest. She presses a button on the rail on the bed and it begins to elevate me. Oh, an adjustable bed. Funny. These things always looked more comfortable on the TV commercials.  
  
The door opened and a girl that couldn't have been more than nineteen walked. "Good morning," she said. "How's my patient today?"  
  
*This kid was my doctor?*  
  
"You were shot while in sewers. Do you remember?"  
  
Shot? Everything came back all at once. Wide eyed, I looked at Donna. What about the girl?  
  
"Jamie is fine, just very shaken up right now. She's been asking about you."  
  
I felt some relief wash over me. I got the job done. I picked up my mobile hand and made a writing motion. Donna picked up the pad and held it for me while I shakily tried to write with my left hand.  
  
//Dial O R E H 4 me//  
  
I gave the pen back to her and concentrated on the dial willing it to appear in my left hand. This was hard since I was still groggy. Sweat formed on my brow as it shimmered into existence into my palm. I pulled in my fingers and the clock face disappeared revealing the dial.  
  
Donna looked at me questioningly. "Are you sure?"  
  
I nodded. She looked at Lian then dialed O R E H.  
  
The light came and went as usual and I was back. And thank heaven I could feel my right arm again! And I could speak again!  
  
"Thank you." The effects of the anesthesia were gone and my arm had feeling again. I tried to move it, but it was very stiff still. I looked over and saw that it was still bandaged. And that I was still kind of naked beneath my hospital gown. Well that's new. Maybe somewhere that loincloth has turned back into my clothes from Friday. Friday?  
  
"What day is it?"  
  
Donna and Lian gaped at me.  
  
Donna looked at Lian, then back to me. "Sunday."  
  
"Oh, no. Persephone!"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"My cat. I haven't talked to her sinc..." I looked back up into their dumbstruck faces.  
  
Donna's eyebrow arched up. If she could bottle that, mothers across the world would have the tightest reigns on their kids.  
  
"I suppose this is that 'later' I mentioned earlier, huh?"  
  
=================================================  
  
Donna and Lian were sitting in my living room, while I was making coffee in the kitchen. We discovered that the loincloth and boots had changed back to my normal clothes when Donna dialed me back. Good thing, too. After waking up in in the medbay of Titan's Tower, it concerned me a bit that I might be going home in a hospital gown. The clothes were clean, too. No sewer stench or stains. The trench coat, on the other hand, was a lost cause. Between the soaking it got from when I fell and the blood and gore that had splattered through the back of it, there was no saving it.  
  
I never did see that guy again while there. I don't remember much, except those eyes of his. Like looking into the eyes of an angel. Then again, I was pretty out of it then. I didn't recognize him. I'm beginning to wonder if I imagined the whole thing. I didn't recognize him as being a Titan, but then again, I never really paid much attention to their membership. It always seemed to be rotating every few months.  
  
Persephone was feigning sleep on the table, keeping a watchful ear out for anything she might need to be involved in. She had spent the weekend waiting for me on the balcony. It's funny, now that I think about it. Perse always seemed to be on the other side of a door that I just *knew* I had closed or locked earlier. Her telekinesis apparently made short work of anything barring her way. I guess now I can move her cat food tins to a lower shelf in the kitchen. She could get at them whenever she wanted in the past, no sense keeping them out of her reach now. Thank heaven for that. She was able to fend for herself when I wasn't around. I made a mental note to watch her to open one of the tins. I surmised that for her it would be akin to me peeling an orange. I glanced into the garbage and noticed the Salmon Supreme tins discarded unopened. I guess she will have to be a little more involved in the grocery shopping from now on.  
  
I managed to stall the entire story all afternoon. Lian insisted on giving me another once over before we left. The whole time, I kept hoping that Donna would not use that truth-thing she does on me. She could have gotten the whole story right then and there. I just wanted to be with Perse when we discussed everything.  
  
Donna caught me up to date on the event's of Friday afternoon. Jamie was fine, but was in a hospital for observation. Deborah and Mark were both in stable condition. Deborah might never walk again, though only time will tell. The kidnappers are behind bars now. As far as the police know, Troia was the only one involved in the rescue. Any of the other Titans only saw me as Path. My secret is still safe.  
  
Coffee's ready. I loaded the coffee cups onto a tray with sugar and cream. Picking up the tray, I closed my eyes, took a deep breathe, and delivered it to the ladies. *Here goes nothing.*  
  
=================================================  
  
"The healing factor of that device is incredible. Even Wally's link to the speed force can't heal that quickly." Lian spoke between sips.  
  
"Uh, just how messed up was I?"  
  
Donna looked to Lian. "The bullet at such close range did not make a clean exit wound. It damaged the nerves in your shoulder and shattered the bone there. You lost a lot of blood." Lian spoke calmly. "When Donna brought you to me, you were in shock. Your breathing and heartbeat were very faint."  
  
I swallowed hard. I felt all color drain from my face. Persephone moved from the table into my lap. I felt her presence stroke my mind, calming me. I set the coffee cup down and absentmindedly stroked the soft fur behind her ears.  
  
"You were in surgery for over 7 hours. I was able to repair what I could of the shattered bones and nerves. You would have needed more extensive surgery than what I could have performed at the time to get you back a normal level of functionality. You would have spent months in physical therapy."  
  
"But seeing you now, I guess that is moot. You're a very lucky man, Tyler Lane." Donna set her eyes on me and smiled.  
  
I felt queasy.  
  
"But I don't understand something," Lian said. "I remember that Hero Cruz was once severely injured once while in a form from the H-Dial. He did not have the same healing factor. In fact, he would have died *had* he changed back."  
  
"Tyler...?" I knew the question before Donna asked it.  
  
"How did I get the dial?" I offered.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Actually, the dial found me. Some weeks ago it appeared." Perse mentally nodded. I wasn't lying. For all I knew, it had just appeared in my kitchen. I didn't remember pulling it out of my pocket with my wallet that night. "I think it is the dial that once belonged to Christopher King." Donna's eyes widened at his name. "But it is something of an enigma. Like... I don't think that this dial is from our time."  
  
"So, you believe that it exists here for you and with someone else at the same time?" Lian asked.  
  
"I think so. But my dial seems different from what I've learned of the others. It's more... protective of me." I cradled Persephone in my arms as she purred loudly. "Kind of like Hero Dial 2.0. This whole thing sounds a little crazy, huh?"  
  
"Not really," Donna said. "Wally has more experience in the timestream than anyone I know. And we've all had our share of... encounters from different times." Donna seemed pensive talking about this. I wonder what she could have possibly been through.  
  
We talked well into the early evening. But my lack of sleep was really starting to show again. Lian and Donna said their goodbyes and I closed the door behind them after I promised to call later. I have a feeling that if I don't, they will.  
  
"I'm very proud of you." Persephone's voice range in my ears. "You did the magicks justice."  
  
I turned to look at Perse, leaning back against the door.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
I felt so cold suddenly. And all I wanted to do was sleep.  
  
I called Rivka prepared to beg for a week of vacation. I needn't have prepared. With our show on hold until the star is ready to appear in public again, my job is on hold, too. She would call when there was work for me. In the meantime, maybe I should play waiter for a while.  
  
I wonder if my finances could last for a while.  
  
There was that sick feeling again.  
  
I dropped the phone and went into the bathroom and turned to the mirror.  
  
Black hair with that one gray stripe at the left temple. Check. Green irises. Dark circles from lack of sleep. Check. Tears slowly sliding down my stubbled cheek. Check. Pouty lip quivering. Check.  
  
*What the hell am I doing.* Not a question. I didn't know of any answers anyway.  
  
=================================================  
  
I cried and slept for two days. Persephone lay with me the entire time. I wonder how much of what I'm feeling affects her. She's been so quiet since I came back. Tuesday night I couldn't sleep or cry any more. I felt so empty. And hungry. I realized that I hadn't eaten anything solid since Friday morning.  
  
I rearranged the cushions and sat up. Time to take stock of the situation. I never really considered it before, but I do that a lot. I guess I got it from mom. She was always doing that. Things would get crazy and she would just sit herself down and think. It helps me focus and put things in perspective.  
  
You haven't eaten in four days. Check. You almost died last Friday. Check. You and a Titan rescued an international star. Check. Save for two people, your secret identity is still intact. You are out of work. Check. You have enough in your bank account to last out two months. Check.  
  
"You still have those pouty lips. Check."  
  
Persephone was sitting up by my feet. I grinned in spite of myself. I leaned forward and crawled to the end of the bed. I placed my forehead against Persephone's. "Ah, my master speaks!" I giggled.  
  
"Yes, and master commands you to take a bath! You smell so badly it burns!" Her head shook a little at the offense of *me*.  
  
"I don't know," I sniffed. "It's kind of rugged."  
  
"You bottle that scent and try to sell it, then. I'll wait for you at the poorhouse."  
  
We laughed. It felt like forever since we had just been this cozy together.  
  
She caught my eyes with hers. "You know, it'll never work out between us."  
  
That's a surprise hit to left field. She hadn't brought up her feelings for me since the day I got the dial. The silence hung in the air like a blanket spread across a clothes line.  
  
"I know." I whispered. "I'm sorry, Perse."  
  
She sniffed again. "Another place, another time. I've got more than nine lives you know." She leapt off the bed and strolled towards the door.  
  
"You sure know a lot of clichés for a cat."  
  
She looked back over her shoulder. I felt her smile. "I'm no ordinary cat. Now get your ass in gear, pixie boy. You're taking me out for dinner. That canned salmon is disgusting."  
  
=================================================  
  
End of Chapter 01 


	3. Holding Out For A Hero 03

Holding Out For A Hero - Part 3 Author: Shadow Kyle Archive: Yes, ask first please. kyle.scott@mindspring.com Website:   
  
Warnings: Adult topics and language, M/M slash themes. This episode contains some major angst, sexual situations and rape.  
  
Rating: R (the NC-17 version can be viewed at my website)  
  
Universe notes: I have taken liberties with the H-Dial for this story. The story begins in 2012. Tyler Lane is the adult son of Lucy Lane, Lois Kent's sister. Lucy Lane is a single mother in this universe. His father is Ron Troupe. Aside from that, the DCU history remains true. Disclaimer: Tyler Lane and Persephone are mine. All other characters belong to the DCU of DC Comics. I'm just taking them out for a test drive. Frankly, if they were mine, more of those comics would come with and "adult content" warning.  
  
IN THIS EPISODE: Tyler confronts some personal demons and, literally, runs into his dream man.  
  
=========================  
  
I've been running now for three days. Well, not continuously, of course. I'm sure that I could probably dial a form that could do that, though. I haven't dialed up since Path a week ago. I don't know if I've been needed or not. I wanted to stay curled up in my own little world for a while. Tyler's world. It is a dark world these days. Mostly, because I sleep a lot. An awful lot. I haven't wanted to sleep this much since... No. I'm not dealing with that now. Tuck it up. Open door. Throw it in. Close the door. And lock it. Pocket the key for later. I'm only dealing with one bit of angst at a time right now.  
  
From the morning the dial appeared, I went straight into the superhero game. I never once considered the consequences. Every little scrape or bruise was instantly healed once I became Tyler again. Never once did I think that I could die while using the dial. It's odd. I had to learn to trust the instincts of the powers. I never had to learn that what I could do might make a difference.  
  
I suppose that was ingrained from when I was a kid. I loved reading the articles Aunt Lois wrote about Superman. It wasn't just that she wrote about what he had done to save the world this or that time. It was that her writing made him seem so real. Not like this god among men, but a real person. Like any of us could be doing what he did. I remember something he had said in one of their interviews. Lois had asked him, "Why? Why do you do it?"  
  
"Because I can," he replied.  
  
Was it really that simple for him? Is it supposed to be that simple for me? It's hard enough just trying to keep afloat in this world without any added burden. What would someone else do in my situation? What will I do in my situation?  
  
I run. I've spent so much time in the park lately, just running along the paths. It feels so good to exercise my own muscles. I've only been getting a workout at nights when I'm heroed up. The effect of that exercise doesn't affect my own body though. I think on that for a moment. I don't get the benefits of a workout. I don't keep any injury. I do get exhausted. Is that more of a mental thing? The mental effects I tend to retain.  
  
I wish I didn't. I want to forget the fear in Jamie's face. She had been through so much hell in such a short time. I want to forget her eyes, wide open and filled with terror when I pulled her through that portal. I never got to see that fear leave her face when she realized she was safe. I wonder if it ever truly will.  
  
=========================  
  
I run and listen to the sound of my own blood pumping in my ears for a long while. I enjoy the thump of my feet on the pavement, each one rolling in just slightly to absorb the shock of the impact. My knees are slightly bent. With each step I spring forward again down the path. Inhale through the nose and exhale from the mouth. My heart is beating hard. Harder than it has in a very long time. Sweat is pouring off of me. I grab the tail of my t-shirt and pull it off over my head. I swab my face and chest, relishing the clammy feeling of the wet fabric against my skin absorbing the moisture. I tuck it into the back of my shorts and continue running. Running and feeling the shirt bounce against the back of my legs. Right, left, brush, slap. Right, left, brush, brush. Right up against the really sensitive spot about four inches below my ass. Gooseflesh springs up as a cool breeze glides around me. Touching me like no one has in a very, very long time. Oh, man. When was the last time I paid any attention to my own body? When was the last time someone else paid any attention to my body? I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the vibrations that were buzzing through me.  
  
New Yorker rule number 4: Don't run with your eyes closed. I'm pretty sure it's a rule somewhere. At any rate, it's a rule I learned and numbered just when I ran into something hard and fell onto my backside.  
  
"Oh, did someone get the number of that truck?" I groaned. I was lying flat on my back on the pavement. The sun was directly overhead and shining directly into my eyes.  
  
Darkness crept across my face and I blinked to refocus. "Hey, you all right?" the shadow asked.  
  
Body check: nothing broken, some light bruising probably. Ego severely smacked around a bit. If I weren't already flushed from running, I'm sure I would have turned as red as a fire truck.  
  
"I'm fine, I think." I sat up and shook my head. There was a very nice pair of legs right in front of me. Toned and muscular and tanned. I raised my eyes and found myself looking right at his crotch. Whoa. Then the stammering started.  
  
"I.. I.."  
  
He leaned over me and I saw his face for the first time. No wait, not the first... time. It's him! He's the angel!  
  
He extended his hand and I stared at it for a while before accepting it. He pulled me to my feet. "Are you sure you're OK?"  
  
"Uh, yeah, I... I..."  
  
"Didn't hit your head, did you?"  
  
I rubbed the back of my head. "No, I... I don't think so." Finally, I got a sentence out! "I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."  
  
"Don't worry about it. I've been run over by worse than you and lived to tell the tale." He grinned. "So, you're ok. Really?"  
  
"Yeah, fine. Really."  
  
Then things got kind of... weird, I guess. I couldn't stop staring into those big brown eyes of his. I really just wanted to dive into them and never come up for air. It was his turn to stammer.  
  
"So, I.. uh. I should, uh, get..."  
  
"Going." I finished for him. "Sorry about running into you."  
  
"No foul."  
  
Neither of us moved. The silence hung there. Well, not really silent if you take into account that my own voice was screaming at me: *Get his name! Get his number! Touch him! Reach out and pull his lips down to yours and taste him! What are you waiting for!?! DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT!!!!!*  
  
"Ok, well. See you 'round." I said.  
  
*idiot*  
  
"Yeah. See you around." He smiled, *oh god*, then took off running in the opposite direction.  
  
*fucking idiot*  
  
Shut up.  
  
=================================================  
  
"Have a good run?"  
  
"Yeah, I did," I answered.  
  
I really had. I still have no idea what I am going to do, but I felt a little better. I hope that lasts for a while.  
  
"So, I guess you're going to take a shower and then go back to bed now?"  
  
Damn, she gets right to point. For someone that has lived as long as she has, tact is sorely lacking sometimes. She doesn't pussyfoot around at all. *heh, pussyfoot* I snicker at my own cleverness. Hell. If I don't, then who will?  
  
I go to the kitchen, retrieve a bottle of water and down half of it in almost one gulp. Perse pads in behind me and jumps up on the counter. I finish off the contents of the bottle in three more swigs, replace the cap and then throw it into the trash. I think to myself that I really should try to recycle. Ok, deep breath now.  
  
"Actually, I figured that I would shower, browse the want-ads again, ...then get ready for a patrol."  
  
"Good."  
  
"You think?"  
  
"Yes." she nodded. "And this time, I'm coming with you."  
  
*Well, this should be new and different.*  
  
"Shut up and go take a shower."  
  
"..."  
  
When exactly did my cat become such a hardass? I know, I know. She's no ordinary cat.  
  
=========================  
  
I stripped off my clothes and stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I'm going to have to start going to the gym more. In the past weeks, I've lost a little of the muscle definition that I had worked so hard to get over the past few years. It didn't help that I hadn't eaten much lately, either. I was such a typical gym bunny. So many people called me that, with just a little more disdain in their voice than was necessary.  
  
What did they know, anyway? They weren't there when I was the chubby queer kid getting beat up in school. They weren't there when I felt unattractive. They weren't there when I hated myself. They weren't there when I started to lose the weight. They weren't there when I finally felt good about myself. They weren't there when I was finally getting noticed. They weren't there when I fell in love for the first time. They weren't there when it turned sour and he told me how ugly I was. They weren't there when he hit me. They weren't there when his friends... No. Pack it up. Put it away. They didn't know. And I didn't want to know.  
  
I set the showerhead to pulse, then turned on the water. The water beat the tile mercilessly. I drew back the curtain and stepped in. The water beat my muscles the same way it had the tile, but the sound was different. More of a dull thud that a whacking sound. It felt sooooo good. The water worked its way across my back and then chest as I slowly spun around. My tension fell away in chunks. I imagined each bit of stress getting knocked off and then breaking into a million pieces on the tiles.  
  
"Let it go, let it go," I whispered aloud to myself.  
  
I adjusted the angle of the spray, picked up the liquid soap and squeezed the gel out of its container. I worked it over my skin, feeling each muscle along the way. It's still there. I'm not that fat kid anymore. I slowly rubbed the lather across my chest, tangling my fingers in the hair. My hand brushed over one nipple. It responded immediately, stiffening at my caress. I brought my other hand up and gave the same attention to its ignored twin. It responded just as eagerly. No, I'm not that kid anymore. I smiled to myself. Sliding my hands from my chest, I felt the muscles in my abdomen. Counting each set as I moved lower and lower... Images of my angel filled my head. I replayed the encounter in the park. This time I pulled him into my arms for a soul-satisfying kiss. He responded in turn. My tongue parted his lips and I tasted mint, mint and heat. He broke the kiss and I looked up into his eyes. Oh, those eyes. Strong arms encircled my frame and pulled me in closer. Nothing else mattered but this. Nothing else... Nothing.  
  
=========================  
  
I exited the steamy bathroom still drying my hair.  
  
"Good shower?" Perse asked from the living room. I could just feel her smirk.  
  
"The best." I shyly grinned to myself.  
  
=================================================  
  
I sat on the sofa with the papers spread out before me. The Times, Backstage, the Post, Variety, even a couple of from Jersey. Yes, I was that desperate. I was never a good waiter. That was definitely not an option for me. Anyway, with all that time I spent in college studying the business side of the arts, I did not want to be another one of those struggling artistic types at The Hard Rock Cafe pushing appetizers, Captain Crunch chicken fingers, and desserts. Maybe Cameron Macintosh's office had an opening, I thought as I reached for my address book when the phone rang. Praying it was Rivka with good news, I answered it quickly."  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Tyler?"  
  
"Speaking." Damn, I thought. It's not Rivka.  
  
"Tyler, it's Donna. How are you doing? I heard about the show and everything."  
  
"Yeah. Well, that's show biz I guess." I tried not to sound as bitter as I really was.  
  
"Well, I hope you don't really feel that way. I have a proposition for you..."  
  
I listened as Donna explained that "Vampires" gig was something of a break for her. She had a name as a fashion photographer, but was trying to branch out. That was where I came in.  
  
"Tyler, I need an assistant. With your theatrical contacts, I think you would be good to help expand my career."  
  
My heart stopped.  
  
"Donna, are you offering me a job?"  
  
"Yes. Are you interested?"  
  
Let me think. I've got no other prospects. I'd rather not wind up at Beefsteak Charlie's. I'll still be working in the arts since she wants to go in that direction. She probably won't freak out if I dial up at the office. One second later:  
  
"Hell, yeah!"  
  
=========================  
  
"You really want to do this?" I asked. Persephone stepped into the backpack and settled down.  
  
"Yes. I need to see how you work while out there."  
  
"I don't need a babysitter, Perse." I was a bit peeved. I *had* been patrolling my neighborhood streets alone with no problems before.  
  
"I'm not going to baby-sit, Tyler. You still are in training. I'll watch. I won't be barking commands at you. You'll be on your own." She said. "Think of me as an observer. A critic even."  
  
*Great. Ben Brantley is going out to watch me play superhero.*  
  
"It's for your own good. It's not like I can supervise you in a big room to watch you let you loose and learn the full extent of your capabilities. Not everything you can do stems from the powers. And sometimes, the powers can work against you."  
  
I had already learned that. Not being able to communicate vocally as Path was a bitch. Troia and I could have saved a lot of valuable time if I could have spoken. Maybe I should learn sign language, I thought.  
  
I hoisted her onto my back.  
  
"Comfy?"  
  
She poked her head out of the opening. "I'm fine. Are there any snacks on this flight?"  
  
=================================================  
  
Perse is such a touch-slut. We stepped out of the elevator into the lobby. Immediately, she was the center of attention. Everyone just had to pet her and tickle her chin. The doorman even nuzzled her a little, pressing his nose to her own. I still felt her mental purring still when we were a block away.  
  
"You know," I said, "it's not like I never pet you."  
  
"Oh, please. Like you don't get off when someone new touches you."  
  
Touché.  
  
We headed a couple of blocks south as the setting sun disappeared beyond a horizon that the skyline would be forever blocked to the earthbound folk in this city. I had seen pictures of some terrific sunrises and sunsets taken in the city, but they were always shots from helicopters or the tops of buildings. I wondered what it would be like to see a sunset from the desert.  
  
I had suggested that we begin patrolling on the top of my building. She thought that it would be more beneficial to work from the street level. She's right of course. I don't always have the ability to fly or move with superspeed when I dial up. No sense in lost time because I have to race down a fire escape to get to the pavement.  
  
It was turning out to be a fairly boring evening after about two hours. The only crime so far had been that one guy who insisted of petting Perse. I guess a Member's Only jacket can still be considered a crime of fashion. If they've become retro, I don't want to know. Maybe word had gotten out that this neighborhood was out of bounds now. The media coverage was pretty intensive there for while. Maybe I should branch out.  
  
"Perse..?"  
  
"I know. It's really quiet out here. I'm not catching any aggressive thoughts at all."  
  
"Do you think..."  
  
"...it's time to seek prey elsewhere?" she finished.  
  
"Well, I wouldn't have put it that way. But, yeah..."  
  
"Where would you like to go tonight?"  
  
"How about the Village?"  
  
=========================  
  
"Subway or cab?" I asked.  
  
"Go ahead and use the dial. We can decide after that." Perse answered.  
  
We turned into an alley and I willed the dial into my hand. I began to dial, then thought better of it. "Hold on." I took the backpack off and set Perse on the ground. No sense risking becoming a lava monster and burning her alive.  
  
Perse poked her out of the flap, "Thank you. I'm not quite ready to move on to my next life yet."  
  
I grinned at her, "See? I am learning. Now let's see if I can fly." H-E-R- O. Flash! Black boots folded down over my shins. Yellow spandex pants with a black stripe down the outside. Black belt with a lightning bolt insignia. Yellow top with a black shoulders. The black coming to a point just above my chest. Black gauntlets and yellow gloves without fingers.  
  
"So?"  
  
"Electical field. I can absorb electricity and then release it through my hands. And I can fly!" I picked up Perse's bag and slipped her onto my back. I looked up for a clear path and... "Ready?"  
  
"Yes. Go."  
  
The orchestra began to play as I lifted us into the air. Soft and lilting, almost playful. Once above the buildings, I spun to get my bearings. The woodwinds entered mezzo piano gradually building to piano in a counterpoint to the strings. A violin soloist rose above with the melody as I concentrated on my destination.  
  
"Tyler?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What is that?"  
  
"What is what?"  
  
"The music. Why do you have a soundtrack?"  
  
"Um... Remember when I told you about how Path was wearing just a loincloth and boots? No underwear?"  
  
"I remember."  
  
"Well, I've learned that the dial can be kind of playful sometimes. I think it enjoys the jokes and bad puns it comes up with."  
  
"All right. I know I'm going to regret this, but what is your name now?"  
  
"First, promise you won't laugh."  
  
"Why would I laugh?"  
  
"Promise me you won't laugh."  
  
"I promise."  
  
I sighed deeply, and then said, "the Conductor."  
  
She lied to me. I decided then and there to put a mousetrap in her litter box.  
  
=========================  
  
We soared over the city, leaving a trail of electricity and music in our wake that would make even the toughest music critic sit up and take notice. I wonder if I can turn it down? Broadcasting my whereabouts to a criminal is not the brightest of situations. I visualized a volume down button, concentrated on the sound and... Silence.  
  
Persephone had been unusually quiet during the trip. I could feel that she was curled up in the bottom of the backpack. "Perse? Are you ok back there?"  
  
"I'm well. It's just that flying has never seemed natural to me. Even before I was a cat, I never cared for it. Plus, I seemed to have developed a rather bad case of static cling. I cannot get this lint off my fur. I believe I will stay here until you can pull this charge from me." Oops. We hadn't considered the effect the residual electricity might have on her. I can't pull the charge back while flying. It's what is keeping me up. I definitely can't be wearing the pack if I release a larger charge. She'll be fried.  
  
"We'll be landing soon, Perse. I'll take care of you then."  
  
I descended to just below the top of the buildings and flowed the path of 7th Avenue. People of the street were staring and pointing. First the first time in my life, that didn't feel like such a bad thing. I smiled to myself and turned up the volume of the music. The majestic sound of trumpets filled the air, crescendo building and echoing off the bricks and glass. Waving at the people below, I thought to myself, "Try that, Superman."  
  
"Don't get cocky," Perse's voice rang over the music.  
  
"OK, OK." The music faded into the background so that I could just barely hear it. Humming to myself, I landed on a roof.  
  
"Where are we?" Perse asked as I lifted the bag off and set it on the ground.  
  
"Chelsea. I decided to start here then work my way over to Avenue A. Come on out."  
  
"No."  
  
"Perse, I need to pull the charge from you."  
  
"Do it from out there."  
  
"What's wrong with you? Come on out!"  
  
"No!" She resisted as I reached into the bag and lifted her up. The visual image was of a cat that had just come out of the dryer with no fabric softener. All her hair was standing on end and there were flecks of lint covering her muzzle and paws.  
  
"One laugh from you! One smart remark and I shred every curtain and cushion in the apartment!" She lifted one paw to my face and extended her claws to make her point.  
  
Oh, it was hard not to laugh! I decided to tuck this vision away and bring it back for a later time. I concentrated and pulled the charge to myself. Her fur relaxed slightly and then I smoothed it down, brushing the lint from her. I set her on the roof and she immediately went about grooming herself.  
  
"So, what are you waiting for? Get going!"  
  
"Aren't you going to come with me?"  
  
"No need. I can link with you as long as you're not too far away. I'll let you know before the link fades."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yes. I don't relish being a puffball ever again."  
  
In spite of her threat, I chuckled as I rose to begin my patrol.  
  
=========================  
  
I'm bored. Bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored. Nothing's happening here either. Earlier I thought I saw a girl breaking into a car, but it turned out to be hers. She had locked the keys inside. I about gave her a heart attack when I appeared, electricity crackling in my fists. She finally managed to jimmy the lock and retrieve her keys. But not before giving me a lecture about how metahumans think that they rule the city, and how much better "normal" people would be without them and left to fend for their selves.  
  
So now I'm on a rooftop about five blocks away from Perse right now, twiddling my thumbs. We discovered that her contact range is about seven blocks or so. Pretty far, I think. I wonder if that is good, though. I mean, there is the advantage to being able to contact me anywhere in the world, but do I really want that? It's still kind of weird with her presence there most of the time. She's good about not invading my mind when I need personal time. But maybe I should work at building some mental blocks. Not against her specifically. But, what if I encountered another mentalist? Perse popped into my head fairly easily. What if someone else did the same and was able to control me that way? I really didn't want to be another hero that went bad. I wonder if Donna ever worried about that sort of...  
  
"Tyler, I'm feeling distress and pain around your area. Are you OK?" Perse slipped into my thoughts.  
  
"Yes. Could it be someone else?"  
  
"Possible. It's very faint, so it's further away that I can pinpoint."  
  
"I'm on it." I flew up into the air and began scanning the streets for signs of trouble. I really wish this form came with enhanced hearing or sight. I came to the edge of the Perse's range.  
  
"Tyler, you're about to lose me."  
  
"I know, Perse. But nothing is happening around here. I'll be back soon."  
  
I flew over the next two blocks. Nothing. Maybe I would catch something on the ground. I landed at the corner and began pacing the streets, listening for any signs of trouble. The streets were deserted this time of night. No cars, no people. What was it that she heard?  
  
I stepped into an alley and heard sounds of sex. Rough sounds. At the end of the passage, I saw them: two guys standing with their pants pulled down around their thighs, masturbating. Another guy on the pavement, pounding hard into someone else.  
  
"You like that don't you, faggot?"  
  
"Yeah, he likes it, man!"  
  
"Gonna bust a nut in you, fag! Is that what you want, pussyboy? Huh? You like that, don't you? You gonna like it when I'm done? Huh? Then my buds are gonna do the same thing. We gonna tear your ass up tonight. Just like you want it."  
  
"...no."  
  
"Shutup, faggot!"  
  
*oh my god, they're raping him*  
  
=========================  
  
"So, uh, we heard from Ken that you got a pretty tight ass. That true?"  
  
They were on me before I could react. Two of them held me face down while the other pulled off my pants and underwear. I heard him spit and then felt his wet fingers work into me.  
  
"Oh, yeah, he was right. You are tight." He shoved another finger in.  
  
"Here, put this on. No telling what you might get from him."  
  
I heard the sound of paper tearing. I heard him spit again. I felt him spread me. I felt his...  
  
=========================  
  
"GET OFF OF HIM!" I exploded into the alley. The music swelled to a tremendous cacophony, mirroring my rage. From each hand, I threw a charge at the two guys standing. They twitched wildly and then went down.  
  
=========================  
  
"...no, please don't. please."  
  
"Do something to shut him the fuck up!"  
  
"Oh, I got something to shut him up!" He dropped to his knees and grabbed my hair, lifting my head. "You bite me and I'll kill you."  
  
=========================  
  
"GET OFF YOU BASTARD! GET OFF OF HIM!" I grabbed his hair and pulled him back. Dragging him away, I heard him yell from the pain of his exposed flesh getting scraped on the pavement. I didn't care. I jerked him up to his feet and spun him around. The crackle began on my fist as I pulled back, illuminating my face. The bastard's eyes grew wide. I snapped my punch against his jaw, letting the charge blast into him. He fell to his knees, shaking from the shock. I grabbed his collar and brought him back to his feet, holding him there. Blood spit from his mouth. The stubble on his cheek was singed and smoking, slightly. I pulled back my other hand pulled back and hit him again. Electricity surged about me now. The alley was awash with light. He fell from my grasp and crumpled on the pavement. He didn't move. His friends didn't move either.  
  
=========================  
  
"Ken was right. You are a good fuck. He must miss that about you."  
  
=========================  
  
"Come on! GET UP!!!"  
  
They didn't move.  
  
=========================  
  
I drew the electrical field back into myself, breathing heavily. The alley was dark once more. I willed the orchestra back, mournful sounds of the violins played softly in my ears. Their victim had pulled himself out of the way and was crouched against the wall. He had got himself together, as best he could, but was still disheveled and shaking. His face wore the bruises from when he had been struck. His lip was busted and blood had begun to dry on his chin. He looked up at me with the widest blue eyes I had ever seen, unsure that the danger had passed. I didn't know what to do. I usually didn't stick around after beating up the bad guys. But, there was no way I was going to leave him alone. I stepped towards him and, whimpering, he scrambled further back. He was terrified of me. There was no way I could approach him like this. Running out and around the corner into the street, I dialed myself back to Tyler. I took a couple of deep breaths and then I raced back down into the alley, trying hard to look as if I had just come onto the scene. I found him still balled up against the wall, crying softly.  
  
"Hey." I spoke. He jerked his head back and those same terrified eyes flashed back up. He looked at me for a few moments before speaking.  
  
"I didn't mean to," his voice was trying desperately to hold back the sobs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... They... They just... I'm sorry. I'm sorry...."  
  
"It's all right now. No one is going to hurt you anymore." I lied. He will be hurting from this for years. Those same guys will always be around the corner, waiting to come back and hurt him.  
  
I offered my palm to him. He stared at it blankly for a moment before reaching out his shaky hand and accepting. I grasped him slightly and helped him to his feet. He was biting his lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. It was a fight he was losing. His knees buckled under him and he started to fall. I gripped him and lowered us to the pavement. He gave into his pain and cried for himself, pressing his face to my chest. I held him in my arms, gently trying to rock away his pain. A light fell into my eyes and I looked up into the face of a police officer.  
  
"We need an ambulance." I said.  
  
I focused again on the man who now had wrapped his arms around me, weeping softly. I continued to rock him in my grip, my hand brushing the damp hair away from his face. "You're safe now. You're safe."  
  
=========================  
  
Once I was within range I called out to Persephone. Mentally, I explained what had happened and that I would be back with her soon.  
  
"I'm fine here. How is the boy?"  
  
The boy. He was just a boy; barely twenty years old it turned out. "He's on his way to St. Vincent's Hospital. Hopefully, there is not too much wrong physically. Some cuts and bruises. There is the danger of infection and maybe STD's. Most of the healing will be done much later. He's going to have a lot to work through."  
  
"And the others?"  
  
"They came to shortly after the cops arrived and found themselves already handcuffed."  
  
We talked more about the fight as I walked back. When I got to a secluded place, I prepared the dial. Now is the time that I really wish I could anticipate who I would become.  
  
"Maybe you can now."  
  
"What? You mean like TRY to become someone that can fly, or teleport?"  
  
"No. Try to recall one of your earlier forms."  
  
I willed the dial back into my hands and concentrated... When I looked at myself, I was back in the familiar black leather pants and vest. I rose into the air. Above the buildings I paused to get my bearings and spotted Perse waiting by the backpack.  
  
"Well, Vesper is back, I see. Oh, goody, more flying."  
  
"At least this time you won't become a big fluffy ball of static cling." I tried not to grin.  
  
She stepped into her bag. "Just don't phase out while you're wearing me, ok?"  
  
"You got it, boss," I said as I lifted her onto my shoulders. "Ready to go home?"  
  
"Yes, little grasshopper." She smiled in my mind.  
  
=========================  
  
The next two weeks were something of a blur. I had begun work at Donna's studio and realized just how bad she was at taking care of the business side of her profession. It took some time, but I managed to get her files in an order that I could work with and even lined up a job shooting a new off-Broadway show. The hours are really agreeable, too. She doesn't spend her nights patrolling the city like I do, but she understands that I do need some rest eventually, So, sleeping in is a new luxury that I never really had before. I can usually get there by 10:00am and have the coffee brewing before she even steps through the front door.  
  
I have expanded my night patrols to include the Chelsea area. Donna assured me that Green Arrow was a strong influence on the Village area, so I never made it to that side of town. I don't know how he would feel with a new costume darkening his streets at night. I don't know the protocol for these types of things.  
  
I am able to call back more of my earlier forms now, though I tend to use Vesper more than the others. Call me nostalgic, but the first one seems to have become the most useful. Plus, I really like the way that body looks, definitely not hard on the eyes at all.  
  
I went to visit the kid from the alley after his first night in the hospital. He was doing fine, if a little banged up. No lasting physical damage for now, but he will have to get an HIV test later to be really sure. He really didn't remember much about the Conductor at all. Just that some electrical man had beat up the bad guys and then took off. He didn't remember struggling to get away when the Conductor approached him. He gave his statement to the police and they questioned me about the mystery man. I brushed it off, suggesting it was probably just some new meta in town.  
  
=========================  
  
Donna came bursting into the studio and went straight into her office. A moment later she came rushing right back out and approached my desk.  
  
"Tyler," she said, placing her palms flat on my desk and leaning into me. "What happened to my room?"  
  
"Well, I've taken all the loose papers floating around and then organized and filed them alphabetically by client in your cabinet. They are also in a database I created that is now loaded onto your pc. The database cross- references contacts and models as well as the different agencies you work with. Invoices for equipment and supplies I now keep out here in my files. And then..." I rambled off the work that I had accomplished in the past two weeks and her expression went from one of near rage to near ecstasy."...and I replaced the light bulbs with some that cast a more natural light."  
  
She raced around behind my desk and lifted me up into a great big Amazonian hug. "You are a gift straight from Olympus, Mr. Lane!"  
  
"Donna?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I can't breathe."  
  
"Oh, sorry." She set me back down. "So what's on the books for today?  
  
"Not much really. You have a phone conference with Feast magazine at 3:00pm. Before and after that you're clear. I figured we could take time to inventory your equipment."  
  
"Ok. So what are your plans for lunch today?"  
  
"None, really."  
  
"Good, you can join me and a friend."  
  
=========================  
  
We stood outside of Roman's, a small cafe two blocks from the studio. We were checking out the forever-changing menu on a chalkboard sign when I heard the voice.  
  
"Hey, sorry I'm late."  
  
My heart tripped up when I heard the voice. *oh my god*  
  
"No, problem. We just got here. Oh, I want you to meet my new assistant, Tyler Lane."  
  
*remember to breathe remember to breathe remember to breathe*  
  
I turned slowly and came face to face with Donna's friend.  
  
*air comes in air goes out air comes in air goes out*  
  
"Tyler, this is Grant Emerson."  
  
=========================  
  
"He's single you know."  
  
I had spent an incredibly weird lunch stammering and stuttering. Donna and Grant were so at ease with each other and I felt like a bit of a third wheel. Donna did her best to keep me involved, but it was a lost cause. My antipasto salad was the most important thing in the world. Except for when I could steal a glance at Grant Emerson. My god, even his name was attractive.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Grant is single. Maybe you should ask him out."  
  
Oh here comes the stammering again. "Donna, I, I... why would, I mean... really. Do you... I don't..."  
  
"Tyler, I just spent an hour of my life watching you trying not to stare at Grant and not being able to speak in full sentences. I think you're attracted to him."  
  
I felt my ears turn very red.  
  
"And if I'm not mistaken, Grant is attracted to you."  
  
"What? Really?" I stopped dead in my tracks.  
  
"Really. You were so busy staring at your food, you never once saw him sneaking looks at you. I swear, I might as well have had lunch by myself for all the time that anyone actually looked at me."  
  
"I don't know. I haven't been on a date in a long time." I wondered aloud. "You really think he's interested?"  
  
"Trust me. I'm never wrong."  
  
"Some sort of super sixth sense?"  
  
"Think of it as matchmaker's intuition." She smiled. "Nice alliteration, by the way. How do you do that without lisping?"  
  
"Practith," I deadpanned.  
  
We laughed. Gay men everywhere need a Donna.  
  
When we got back to the office, Donna picked up the phone and dialed.  
  
"Grant? Hold on. I have someone here that wants to talk to you." She held the receiver out to me.  
  
"You're not going to let this go, are you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"What if..."  
  
"Shut up and take the damn phone before I beat you with it."  
  
I wondered if Persephone is a distant relative of Donna's.  
  
I took the receiver. "Um, hello?"  
  
*Oh, good start*  
  
"...hello?" He responded.  
  
"Uh, hi Grant this is, um, Tyler."  
  
"Oh, yeah. Hi."  
  
*Wow, he remembered! Stupid, of course he remembered. It's only been fifteen minutes.*  
  
"I was thinking that..." Donna caught my eye and I saw that brow arch. Damn, she can be so intimidating. "I mean, if you're interested, I was wondering if, maybe, you would like to go out sometime."  
  
My entire body tensed. I hated this. This is one thing that just kills me. It always took me forever to just get the nerve to say hi to someone in a bar, where you are supposed to meet people. I closed my eyes and waited for the rejection.  
  
"That sounds good. How about this Saturday?"  
  
"That's ok. I understa... What?"  
  
Donna smiled with an expression that just screamed 'I told you so'.  
  
"Saturday night. We can have dinner, maybe a movie?"  
  
*My God! He didn't say no!*  
  
"Have you ever been to Cafe Un Deux Trois?"  
  
Cafe Un Deux Trois was a French restaurant in the theatre district near the Belasco. It's kind of touristy, but was good. I had finagled many a private table there for the Weisman's office in the past.  
  
"I know it. It's great. I'll... um... I can make reservations there."  
  
"They don't take reservations."  
  
"Let me see what I can work out. I'll call you later with details?" I hoped I really didn't sound too self important; I just wanted to impress him so much.  
  
"All right. That would be nice," he said.  
  
We exchanged numbers. After a goodbye that I pray didn't sound too longing or soulful, I placed the receiver back in the cradle.  
  
"See? That wasn't hard, now, was it?" Donna laughed and went back into office. "And I want details of your date, mister!"  
  
=========================  
  
I floated on air the rest of the day. On the subway home, I didn't even notice being jostled about by the huge crowds. I did manage to keep from skipping from the subway station to my apartment, but just barely. I gave a big smile to the doorman of my building and hummed along with the Muzak playing in the elevator. I never realized it before, but songs by Poison were incredibly deep. I danced down the hallway and opened the door to my apartment. Perse was waiting for me.  
  
"What the hell is a 'Grant Emerson'?"  
  
*uh oh*  
  
==================================================  
  
End of part 3.  
  
Comments are always welcome: kyle.scott@mindspring.com 


	4. Holding Out For A Hero 04

Holding Out For A Hero 04 Notes, warnings and disclaimers in the author's notes.  
  
==================================================  
  
"What the hell is a 'Grant Emerson'?" Perse asked.  
  
"How did you hear about Grant already? Did he call?" I hoped!  
  
"No one has called all day. But, since you've been within my range, I've been hearing the name Grant Emerson sung to tune of about a dozen songs. You've been broadcasting so strongly, I daresay that every mentalist in Manhattan is asking the same question." Perse leapt to the counter and settled down. "We need to work on building up your mental blocks, Tyler."  
  
I stood in shock. My god, I didn't realize that I was so, so... love struck? Is that the right word? I really haven't even had a real conversation with this guy yet and I wandering about like a starving puppy, ready follow him to the end of...  
  
"Hey, Romeo. Back to me." Perse snapped. "You're doing it again."  
  
I turned my attention to her, but was at a loss for words.  
  
"We'll work on the blocks later." She began to purr. "Now, tell me all about this man who going to try and steal you away from me."  
  
Feeling her mental wink, I retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator, lifted her into my arms and walked into the living room.  
  
"Well, remember when Troia took me back to the Titan's Tower? He was the first person I saw when I woke up. Then I met him while running in Central Park and just again this afternoon at lunch."  
  
"So he doesn't know that you were Path?" she questioned. "If that is the case, he may not realize that you know him to be a Titan. Which one is he, anyway?"  
  
That caught me by surprise. I really wasn't sure now that I think about it.  
  
"I don't know," I confessed.  
  
That nagged at my thoughts all evening.  
  
We began working that night on my mental blocks. Truth be told, I really didn't do anything. I was lying on the bed, eyes closed. Perse sat above my head and did everything. I saw her in my mind, literally, building walls: a very small one at first, then another larger one. She continued as I let sleep overtake me, dreaming of a little cat dancing about a grassy field setting up stone after stone after stone.  
  
When I woke the next morning I found that Perse had fallen asleep with her paws tangled in my hair. Her chin was resting on my forehead and she was snoring the sweetest little kitty snores. I slipped out from her tender grasp, trying not to disturb her. She must have been up all night. It's a rare thing when I wake before her. I stroked her chin and she stretched into the touch, purring. As I left the bed to begin my morning routine, she rolled over, legs hanging limp in the air, and settled back into a deep slumber.  
  
Later, I called Grant's number and got his voice mail. I left a message that the reservations were set and to call if anything should change. He called later that afternoon and got my voice mail. He said he would have to meet me at the restaurant on Saturday. He also said that he was really looking forward to it.  
  
*Oh, yeah!*  
  
Donna wasn't at the studio for the rest of the week. She left a message that she was away with the Titans and she wanted every last detail of my weekend including any naughty bits. Well, that threw a kink into my day. I really wanted her advice on how to handle Grant and the potential of a secret identity. I don't know what I would have expected, though. I doubt she is in the habit of outing her colleagues.  
  
I spent some time Friday online reviewing the last five years of news articles on the Titans. I also managed to locate some photographs as well, but I didn't recognize Grant in any of them. Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe Grant isn't a hero at all. Maybe he was just Donna's friend and happened to be at the tower. Maybe I'm obsessing just a little too much. Maybe I'm obsessing a lot. Maybe monkeys will fly out of my...  
  
=========================  
  
Saturday night didn't come fast enough and entirely too fast at the same time. I spent the last day and a half being excited/terrified, calm/worried, and nervous/really freaking nervous alternately. Dating was not my strong suit. I can count on two hands the dates that I'd been on. I can count the men I'd slept with on one. Yeah, I know. I'm a gay enigma.  
  
Perse helped me dress. Well, she more or less vetoed everything I picked out until I couldn't take it anymore.  
  
"Ok, Miss Furry Pants. You pick out the clothes." I said, exasperated.  
  
She looked into the closet and floated out a pair of brown slacks and a lightweight cream sweater.  
  
"I'm thinking you should go for the Ralph Lauren look tonight. Something wholesome and attractive, yet still approachable."  
  
"You have been watching way too much of the fashion network."  
  
"You don't watch enough of it." She strolled out of the room, tail in the air. "And don't even think about wearing shoes with laces. Wear the loafers."  
  
I dressed and surveyed the results in the mirror. My cat has good taste. I looked stylish, yet relaxed and comfortable. The colors really did wonders for my skin tone. Plus, my ass looked great in these pants. I pocketed my wallet and cell phone and went into the living room.  
  
"How do I look?" I said as I spun for my hardest critic.  
  
"Like a cafe au lait flavored dessert waiting to be gobbled up." She licked her lips.  
  
"Uh, is that a good thing?"  
  
"Trust me. I'm never wrong."  
  
It was then I decided that Persephone *was* a distant relative of Donna's.  
  
=========================  
  
I was waiting outside the restaurant, watching the theatre crowd mill about before the evening shows. I had arrived early enough to make sure our table was still held for us, which it was. We had a corner table in the back, far enough away from the kitchen and the windows to have some privacy, but not so much that we could rip off out clothes and lick each other all over without being noticed. Hmmm. I grinned to myself at the image it produced and felt my groin respond approvingly.  
  
"Hi, Tyler." The voice came from behind me.  
  
Oh, god! Down boy, I thought as I tried to will the uncontrollable swelling into submission.  
  
I turned and looked up into his wonderful brown eyes. "Hi, Grant."  
  
=========================  
  
"You look really nice tonight," Grant said as he sipped his sparkling water. It turned out he wasn't much of a drinker. That suited me fine since I wasn't either.  
  
I looked up over the menu I was holding, barely suppressing a blush. "Thanks. You look very handsome yourself."  
  
He did. Grant was wearing grey slacks and blue sweater. The sweater really accentuated the muscles in his shoulders, but fell loose at his waist and arms. The v-neck displayed the promise of a smooth, tan chest. His hair was haphazard. It was the kind of style that either took hours to achieve or you would fight with it for hours to avoid that look and fail. We both looked like we stepped out of ad for "Preppies 'R' Us".  
  
After ordering, we discussed knowing Donna. It turned out they had known each other for years, when he used to live in the city. Since he moved back here from Chicago a few months ago, they had renewed their friendship. I told him how met Donna. Well, not everything, of course. I can just imagine that conversation right now: Well, yeah, I met Donna/Troia when I turned into a mute Indian tracker/teleporter and then we rescued an abducted actress from the sewers underneath Grand Central Station. I was shot, but I feel ever so much better now. I woke up and saw you. So, who do you think is going to the World Series?  
  
After the appetizers arrived Grant asked, "How did you manage a reservation here?"  
  
"The hostess owed me a favor. A couple of months ago I gave her backstage passes to a concert, so now I figured was as good a time as any to cash in my chips."  
  
He looked down at his plate and pushed the food around with his fork.  
  
"I hope you think it is worth it," he said.  
  
"It is," I smiled. His eyes met mine and he smiled back.  
  
The waiter brought our entrees and, frankly, spent a little too much time flirting and fussing with Grant. I suddenly got very possessive. When I caught the waiter's eye I mouthed, "Back off. He's with me."  
  
*Whoa! Where did that come from?*  
  
The waiter left in a bit of a huff. I was watching him walk away when I felt Grant's hand on mine.  
  
"That's right. I am with you."  
  
Warmth spread across me as he entwined our fingers together. I looked at the contrast of our hands: his sun kissed by the gods themselves, mine cappuccino by heritage. I shuddered at the firm, yet tender grip and closed my eyes. When I dared to open them and look at his face, his chin was resting on his other hand.  
  
"You know you should probably keep your eyes open when you run in the park, right?" A sly grin formed.  
  
"You, um, I mean, uh..." I stammered. "You remember that?"  
  
"I do. In fact, I was hoping to have got your number then," he said. "You were so cute all flustered like that. Just like you are now."  
  
"Yeah, well. It's a gift." I replied, and thought better of it. "Not the bad running, but the fluster." I felt my skin darken as the blush rose from my toes to my scalp.  
  
*Damn his eyes.*  
  
We sat holding hands for a long time. No words were spoken, but a million things were said. My thumb lazily traced a circle over his knuckle. I relished the smooth, dry heat of his hand. The deep brown of his eyes called to me and I listened, losing myself in the reflection of the candlelight that danced there. I want to stay like this forever. I want this feeling to overwhelm me every minute of every day for the rest of my life. I want to stay falling in...  
  
"Is everything to your satisfaction?"  
  
The waiter stood at our table and it was all I could do not to reach out and punch him in the gut. Can't he see were having a *moment* here?!?  
  
"I think everything is just the way I like it," Grant replied. His eyes never left mine.  
  
*Oh, he's good!*  
  
"But, sir," our waiter responded. "Neither of you have touched your dinners."  
  
"I know."  
  
*Oh, but DAMN he's good!*  
  
=========================  
  
We ate our dinner and talked about growing up. We also found many reasons for our hands to "accidentally" touch and linger. Grant is the warmest person I've ever met. And I mean warm to the touch. It's like he just seems to radiate this heat. While he was talking about his time in college, I was imagining how good it would feel to snuggle against him in the winter.  
  
"...and after I got my Psych degree, I began working as a teen crisis counselor. So, you were telling me about your family?" he asked between bites.  
  
"My mom was single. My father was so busy being a reporter I didn't see him very often. I don't regret it. He and I have a good relationship now. It was tough on mom sometimes. Her sister, Lois, was there for her a lot."  
  
Grant perked up. "Lois Lane? As in the 'Daily Planet Lois Lane'? Wow! She's like media royalty. That must have been something great with her being there."  
  
"Well, she's Lois Kent now; but, it was great."  
  
"Your aunt and father are both reporters. Huh. What's your father's name?"  
  
"Ron Troupe."  
  
His eyes grew a little wider. "Ron Troupe? No kiddin'?"  
  
This was a little weird, now. I mean, I never really thought of my father or aunt being much more that what they were.  
  
"Promise," I replied, resting my elbows on the table and massaging my knuckles. It was a nervous habit I thought I had licked back in college. "Why is that so interesting?"  
  
Grant paused for a moment before answering. "No reason. I just thought it was." He concentrated again on eating.  
  
For a moment I watched him silently, then decided to let it drop. There are other things I'd rather think about anyway. Like watching the dimple in his cheek come and go as he chewed.  
  
=========================  
  
We both decided against dessert, much to the waiter's chagrin. Before telling him no, I had him repeat the selections twice and asked him in detail about the truffle fillings. Grant barely suppressed a smile as I played with the poor guy. Well, earlier he *had* pretty much done everything but sit in Grant's lap to take his order.  
  
As we were getting up, I realized that we hadn't planned anything for after dinner. Grant must have had the same thought. We both spoke at the same time.  
  
"Would you..."/ "How about..."  
  
"You first."  
  
"No, you."  
  
"Really, you go."  
  
"Both you go so's I can bus dis table. People're waiting for it."  
  
A girl with pierced eyebrow was trying to get around us to clear the dishes and glasses. We moved out her way. I took Grant's hand and squeezed it.  
  
"Would you excuse me a moment while I run to the restroom?" I asked.  
  
"Sure. I wait right over there." He pointed to door next to the greeting station and squeezed my hand back.  
  
I worked my way across the room to the stairs leading down to the restrooms. After I finished my business, I was washing my hands and began my grooming checklist in the mirror. Everything was still in place I thought when the floor shook beneath me. I fell to the ground as plaster and dust dropped on me from the ceiling. There was a crash as the mirror dropped from the wall and shattered on the floor. The air was filled with the sounds of pandemonium raging upstairs. I picked myself up and raced to the door. I pulled it in and found the path blocked by rubble.  
  
I willed back Vesper as I dialed, deciding that the ghost power would be of best use here. I phased out and flew up through the ceiling. The restaurant looked like a war zone. A car had crashed though the windows in the front of the room.  
  
Take stock: There is no one under the car. It's not on fire. There's no one in it. No one in the place seems to be seriously hurt, just very scared and on the verge of panic. I don't see Grant.  
  
I flew to the area where he was waiting, passing though people and the debris of the windows and overturned tables. He's not here at all.  
  
"Grant!" I tried to yell above the din, trying not to let the panic consume me. "Grant, where are you?!?"  
  
I had my answer when I looked out into the street. Car wrecks, people running and the sound of explosions. I flew out and rose above the sidewalk, getting out of the path of the mob trying to get away.  
  
Grant was fighting someone about fifty feet above the street. Every time that he landed a punch there was an explosion and a burst of light. His opponent was wearing some sort of armor that was deflecting most of the damage that Grant did. Grant's sweater was torn away and hanging in rags around his waist. Underneath it was a blue and orange spandex top.  
  
*Oh, god. Grant is Damage.*  
  
Grant suddenly flew straight down to the street before arching back up. His speed increased and he collided with Armor Man, taking them both further up above the buildings.  
  
I took off after them, staying intangible. What should I do? I'm seriously outclassed here. If Grant wasn't making a dent in him, my punches won't make a difference. Of course he would have to touch me first. Maybe...  
  
I shot a concentrated beam of my darkfield that enveloped Armor Man's helmet. If he can't see, then he can't land a punch. No dice. Armor Man landed a lucky one on Grant, knocking him away. I watched helplessly as Grant zoomed past me. Armor Man was now clutching his helmet, trying to clear his vision.  
  
*Ok, now is the time to do something really stupid.*  
  
I launched myself at full speed up to Armor Man. I may not be able to hit him, but I can keep him blind until Grant gets back. I focused my darkfield and poured it onto his head, absorbing every bit of light.  
  
He began lashing out randomly, trying to land a punch anywhere. His fist passed through me and sparks flew up from his armored fist. He yelped in pain as the sparks danced off the metal. There was a whining sound, like a hard drive powering down.  
  
That's it! My phasing affects the armor!  
  
I reached my hand right through his chest and out his back. I heard his scream from inside the helmet. Whoa, that must have hurt. Fireworks dance around his chest where I was holding my arm. There was another whine and his altitude faltered.  
  
*Shit.*  
  
His armored form slumped as he plummeted to the ground. I solidified and flew after him, reaching out. He was too far away already. I'm not going to make it.  
  
Just moments before impact, Grant swooped in and caught him by the arm. He rose in the sky and floated there before me.  
  
"Thanks a lot, uh. Who are you?"  
  
*Ok. Do I tell Grant I'm the man he just had dinner with? The fact that I look like someone else entirely might not convince him of that.*  
  
"Vesper."  
  
=========================  
  
We flew back to the street where this whole adventure began. The NYSCU was there with a van. Grant turned over Armor Man and they shackled him with some very intimidating cuffs and a harness.  
  
"Dammit, Damage! Every time I see you, my city gets banged up! What the hell happened here?" a burly officer yelled as he approached us.  
  
Grant explained that Armor Man had flown down and started throwing around cars.  
  
"He was yelling something about the 'Mission' and how he was the harbinger," Grant said. "I was in the area here when he arrived."  
  
The cop turned to me. "How about you?"  
  
"Same. Right place at the right time."  
  
He continued to grill us for details. I noticed that Grant was distracted the whole time. He was scanning the crowd. He was looking for me, I realized.  
  
"Are we done here?" Grant asked.  
  
The cop looked at him. "Yeah, for now. I'll contact you later. Still with the Titans?"  
  
"For the time being. You can reach me at the Tower."  
  
"How 'bout you?" He shot a glance towards me.  
  
"You can reach me there, too."  
  
Grant turned a quizzical look my way, and then recovered before anyone else noticed.  
  
He yelled to us as we hurried away. "We need to keep scorecards on you Titans. You guys are never the same team twice!"  
  
=========================  
  
Grant beat me to the restaurant. There was no one in it, save for a couple of cops.  
  
"Tyler!" He was on the sidewalk looking in at the destruction. "Tyler!"  
  
"Damage?" I said as I caught up to him.  
  
"Not now." He rose a bit into the air, looking about. "Tyler!"  
  
"Damage?"  
  
"Vesper, not now!"  
  
No easy way to do this, I thought. As he hovered above me, I dialed myself back out of his view. I was Tyler again and still covered with the dust from the ceiling.  
  
"Grant?"  
  
"Vesper, what the hell is it!?" He looked down and his face changed instantly from annoyance to relief. He landed in front of me and pulled me into his arms.  
  
"My god I was so worried about you!" He exclaimed as he wiped the dust from my hair and face. "Are you alright? Are you hurt? I'm so sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean..."  
  
"Grant, I'm fine! Really, I'm fine."  
  
He let me go and stepped back, a little embarrassed. "I think there's something I need to tell you."  
  
I looked him up and down. He had lost the sweater somewhere along the way.  
  
"I think I've figured it out." I said and smiled.  
  
"Can we get away from here and go someplace to talk?" His face was so serious. I was suddenly very worried. I hate the "t" word.  
  
He looked around the street. The cops were still milling about and photographers had joined them. Lights were flashing all around us. Beyond the yellow police tape, a mass of onlookers was kept at bay.  
  
"We'll never get through that crowd." He observed. "Do you trust me?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He wrapped his arm around my waist. "Hold on."  
  
I clung to his shoulders are he lifted us into the air. Once above the buildings, he oriented and we took off uptown. He gripped me securely and it felt wonderful. I felt his muscles of his shoulders and arms as we soared above the city. I was tingling all over. I'll never think of flying the same way again. He didn't look at me once, though. His expression was so grim. I became very cold despite the heat that was flowing off of him.  
  
=========================  
  
We landed in a clearing of Central Park. It was a clear night and the sliver of the moon hung above us.  
  
"Tyler..." he started.  
  
I didn't let him finish.  
  
"Grant, be quiet for a moment. I had a really good time tonight, despite what happened. It's dangerous to live in this city. I knew that when I moved here. I grew up in Metropolis. Every other month some super villain crawled out of the sewers to take out Superman. I'm used to it. And before you even say it, I'm not going to allow that you think we shouldn't see each other just because don't want to put me in any danger. The fact that you're Damage doesn't change the fact that I really like you! I like you a lot and this is the first time in years that I've felt this way. You are not going to take this away from me. I won't accept that."  
  
I watched his expression fade into disbelief.  
  
"I thought that you probably wouldn't want to see me anymore," he said after letting it sink in. His hands were in his pockets and he looked so very shy and vulnerable. I suddenly realized what this was about. He was afraid that I was going to reject him. "Are you sure about this? I'd like to see you again, too, but being a superhero's boyfriend is not an easy life."  
  
My heart skipped a beat.  
  
"Boyfriend? You want me to be your boyfriend?"  
  
Those brown eyes caught mine again.  
  
"If you're up to it, yeah. I want you to be my boyfriend," he whispered.  
  
"I'd like that."  
  
"Yeah?" A grin slowly crept into his face.  
  
"Yeah. I'd like that a lot. But there's something else you need to know."  
  
Worry began to flood his face as I willed the dial into my palm. He watched as I dialed up Vesper.  
  
"Vesper?" He sounded confused. "I mean... Tyler?"  
  
"Yes. It's me."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Long story," I said as I dialed myself back.  
  
"Does Donna know?"  
  
"She does. This is how we really met. She didn't meet me as Vesper though." I took a deep breath. "She met me as Path."  
  
"Path? You mean that was you in the Tower's medical bay?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Grant looked overwhelmed. He lowered and settled down on the damp grass.  
  
"So, when we met in the park wasn't the first time we met?"  
  
"No."  
  
He looked up at me, concern etched across his brow. "Did you know who I was after seeing me at the Tower?"  
  
I settled down across from him, my legs crossing Indian style. "I didn't. Honestly, I just figured you were a friend of Donna's. I swear. I didn't know until tonight."  
  
We sat in silence for a while. I nervously pulled blades of grass out of the ground and placed them in a pile by my feet. Grant cleared his throat and I looked up.  
  
"So how many people are you?" he asked.  
  
"I think it's limitless; but, I'm still me. That doesn't change. Just my powers."  
  
"Out of curiosity, are you all the new vigilantes that appeared in town some weeks back?"  
  
"Guilty." I smiled, albeit a weak one.  
  
He regarded me silently for a while. My grass mound was growing by the second.  
  
"Cool."  
  
Things were starting to look very up.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah. It is," he said as he stood and brushed off his backside.  
  
I looked up at him as he offered his hand to me. I took it and he helped me to my feet. I stood before him still holding his hand. I wasn't letting go and he wasn't taking it back. We looked at each other, as if it were the very first time. Our hands shifted and our fingers folded together. He is so warm. I stepped closer to him. We were inches apart now. I lifted myself up on my toes to bring my lips to his. His lips were so very soft. I kissed him once, then again as I tilted my head slightly. He responded tentatively. It was unbearably sweet. He lowered his head to mine as I relaxed my feet, planting them back on the ground.  
  
His free hand began to glide up my arm tracing a slow, lazy path to my shoulder. Gooseflesh rose as I shivered. How can someone so warm give me chills, I thought. Our lips met again, then parted. I felt just the tip of his tongue brush out, then back in, as he tasted me. We kissed softly, innocently over and over again.  
  
I lowered my chin and stepped into his embrace. My arms slid around to his back as I rested my cheek upon his chest. His powerful arms wrapped around my shoulders. He shuddered with a sigh and laid tiny kisses against my forehead. Everywhere his lips touched left a heated mark. I imagined steam rising from each one.  
  
We held each other silently under a barely moonlit, starless sky. I listened to his heart beating in his chest and was feeling hypnotized by the rhythm. His hand traced small circles around my shoulder blade. I inhaled deeply, taking in his scent - a mix of cologne and sweat from battle. It was intoxicating and made my head swim. I exhaled with a low moan and he placed another kiss on my brow.  
  
We spend so much of our lives chasing these elusive moments in time. I had just caught up with one of them and wanted it to last forever.  
  
==================================================  
  
End of "Holding Out For A Hero". To be continued in "Where Have All The Good Men Gone?" coming soon. 


End file.
